Do No Harm
by Deb3
Summary: 13th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Alexx's past and present collide on a case, and Calleigh and Horatio prepare for the birth of their daughter.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Do No Harm  
  
Rating: PG-13.  
  
Series to Date: Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, Sight for Sore Eyes, Trials and Tribbulations, Premonition, and Do No Harm. Are you getting tired of this yet? We have at least four more after this one, so I hope not. The whole series is archived on fanfiction.net (deb3), Lonely Road, and a few other spots at this point. Maybe, if it keeps traveling, it will reach Jerry Bruckheimer, and he will offer me a job. If you want to, Jerry, I'd be interested.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, Horatio and Calleigh would have been married for the last several episodes. Try it, TPTB. You can have great cases while bringing them together. It doesn't ruin the plots. I also make no money from this, but if you'd like to change that, PTB, let me know.  
  
2nd Disclaimer: The information on Alexx's background in this story is entirely consistent, at this date, with that in her "official" biography on the CBS site and anything presented in the show. I recently found out that the show departs from the "official" biographies and that the biographies themselves can change. When TPTB change Alexx's background in the future, just remember, this story violated nothing at the time it was written.  
  
3rd and Final (I promise) Disclaimer: I have the utmost admiration and respect for the people who work in nursing homes. My grandfather is in one with Alzheimer's, and I visit him regularly. The staff there have the patience of saints and can still wear a smile at the end of a shift that would have had me pulling my hair out in 30 minutes, tops. Not everyone in this story is as diligent as the actual nursing home employees I know. Sorry for planting a murder on your turf, people, but I had to plant it somewhere. The less than caring people in this story's nursing home are fictitious. The more caring people in this story's nursing home are, many of them, based on real people. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Ladies, I salute you.  
  
***  
  
"First, do no harm."  
  
Hippocrates, Epidemics  
  
***  
  
Angela started down the long hall with the med cart, giving early morning medication to those who required it, taking vitals on those patients for whom they were ordered. The same steps she took every morning at this same time. Nothing more routine could be imagined, except that it was never just routine to her. The nursing home was stirring sleepily to life. In thirty more minutes, the day shift would arrive to be briefed by the night shift on any changes. Shortly after that, the breakfast cart would appear to deliver food to those who could not go down to the dining room. Now, though, the nursing home was still mostly peaceful, the halls still mostly abandoned, the quiet blanket of night not entirely shaken off yet. It was about to be.  
  
Angela stopped the cart and entered room 36. The woman in the first bed looked at her blankly. "I need help," she called in a voice like a croaking raven.  
  
"Good morning, Mary. Time for your pills." Angela crossed to the bed and carefully raised the pills to her lips, followed by a glass of water. None of the physical functions were lost. Mary swallowed the pills easily.  
  
"I need help," she insisted as she finished the glass of water. Her hands fumbled at the bed rails.  
  
"We'll get you up in your chair in a few minutes, Mary. Breakfast soon. Are you hungry this morning?" Angela smiled at her, then picked up the second pill cup from the nightstand where she had set it down and walked around the pulled curtain to the room's other occupant, the one in the bed with a view out the window. "Good morning, Grace. Did you sleep . . . " The greeting trailed off into a piercing scream. The quiet blanket of night fell off the nursing home and landed on the floor in a tangled heap.  
  
Mary, in the first bed, never turned her head, but as the other nurses and aides began to pour into the room, she tried to sit up eagerly, seeing an unexpected flood of people to petition. "I need help," she repeated hopefully. Her statement wasn't even noticed.  
  
***  
  
"Knock, knock, knock." His words tickled the back of her neck. Calleigh turned already smiling from her inspection of the room.  
  
"Sorry, Horatio. Was I blocking your view?"  
  
"No, just improving it." He stood behind her in the doorway to what was becoming the nursery. Over the last few weeks, they had been picking out baby furniture and setting the room up while Calleigh still felt like taking an active hand in the shopping. She was six and a half months pregnant now and looked it. Horatio caught her shoulders as she turned to face him and kissed her deeply. Calleigh returned it, but she definitely felt like there were three people in all of their embraces now, rather than just two.  
  
"This is getting more difficult all the time," she said as she came up for air.  
  
"I'll work around it," he replied, doing so.  
  
"Mmm," she purred. "I don't think life can get better than this."  
  
"You'll be saying differently in two months. You'll be praying for life to get better than this." He straightened up, and they surveyed the room together. "I like the combination." She had wanted blue, and he had wanted yellow, so they had compromised.  
  
"It does look nice together. Why did you want yellow?"  
  
"Sunlight," he said. "There were too many shadows when I was a kid. Rosalind is going to have a happy childhood. Also, it reminds me of you, both physically and in personality." He combed her hair lovingly with his fingers. "Why did you want blue?"  
  
"To match your eyes, and hopefully to match hers."  
  
He smiled at her. "If you're going to order the eyes, I'll put in an order for her to have your hair."  
  
"Can we compromise on that?" she asked. They kissed again, and the phone rang at that moment.  
  
Horatio let her go with a sigh. "We've got to train that phone better. We're not due at work for another hour." He headed into the kitchen with a resigned stride, and Calleigh smiled at his back. He had just returned from a solitary morning run - she had deleted the runs now, although they took a walk every night - and he was still wearing his midnight blue sweats. As many times as she had seen him wearing them, the sight never got old. He looked stunning in that color.  
  
She trailed him to the kitchen more slowly, and he had just hung up the phone as she got to the doorway. His expression told the whole story. "Who got murdered?"  
  
"A resident in a nursing home."  
  
"In a nursing home?" It made it even more of a violation somehow, like murder in a hospital or at church. Death was a frequent enough visitor to those places under normal conditions without coupling it with violence.  
  
"In a nursing home." He had already peeled off his shirt as he headed for the bathroom. "Give me five minutes to shower and dress, and we're out of here." Calleigh hurried back to their bedroom. She was almost ready herself, only lacking shoes and jacket, but she knew that Horatio honestly meant five minutes and might even mean three and a half. She had just finished putting her shoes on, a procedure that was starting to get difficult these days, when he left the bathroom, the consummate professional once more in his silk shirt and suit. She wondered how the team would react if he ever wore those sweats to CSI one day, and the image had her smiling as she met him in the hall.  
  
"What's funny?" His eyes were already out at the scene, and his tone wasn't sharp but preoccupied. Calleigh was jolted back to professionalism herself, remembering the victim. Horatio hadn't forgotten the victim, even for a minute.  
  
"Nothing," she said. Nor likely to be, today. They left the house together, headed for another routine crime scene, except that it was never just routine to them.  
  
***  
  
Darla, the administrator, was bustling uneasily in the doorway to room 36 when Horatio and Calleigh arrived. Adele was already inside the room. "Can we please keep this as discrete as possible?" she pleaded instantly on seeing the badges. "I don't want to upset the patients."  
  
Horatio privately thought that Darla was much more likely to upset the patients with her fluttering than the team was. "We'll do our best, but this is a crime scene." He pushed on into the room. "This room is a semiprivate. Was the other resident here?"  
  
"Yes, but you won't get anything from her. She has advanced dementia, and she only ever says one sentence. Whatever she saw, she wouldn't have understood it. We moved her for the moment."  
  
"Thank you," said Horatio. He finished surveying the first half of the room and stepped around the curtain. Adele was standing there studying the body, but she hadn't touched anything. "Morning," Horatio said, eyes already busily processing the room.  
  
"Morning," Adele replied. Neither of them called it good.  
  
The victim lay in her bed with the handle of a pair of scissors protruding from her chest. Horatio studied her, the small circle of blood around the blades, then knelt, looking under the bed. "Freeze, Adele," he said, and the detective stood absolutely still as Horatio reached just under the bed next to her feet and carefully retrieved a blue fiber. He held it up so they could all see it. It looked like thin blue yarn. "Nursing homes are kept clean. I doubt that's been lying there very long. It may have come from the killer's clothes." Eric and Alexx arrived together at that point, and Horatio put the fiber in an envelope and passed it to Eric. "What can you tell me, Alexx?"  
  
Alexx snapped on her own set of gloves and moved in close to the body. "Between the ribs and straight into the heart, looks like. This perp is either lucky or good, Horatio."  
  
"Neither one," Horatio corrected her. "If he's good, he's not good enough, and if he's lucky, his luck just ran out." Calleigh abruptly wanted to capture the moment. The analytical, methodical anger, the slight tilt of his head, the certainty of his confidence that they would find this killer. She took a picture with the camera of her mind and tucked it away with many others to savor. How she loved watching him pursue a cause.  
  
Horatio, oblivious to her thoughts at the moment, went on. "Do you mean he has medical training, Alexx?"  
  
The ME studied the scissors carefully. "I'll be able to tell more at post, but it's a difficult wound to inflict by chance. Possible but difficult. Most people would go straight for the heart and hit a rib or the sternum. This person knew exactly where to strike and at what angle. Or, like I said, he just got lucky." She smoothed the woman's hair back. "Looks totally peaceful, doesn't she? I'll bet you were sound asleep, angel. Never even knew." She hoped so, anyway.  
  
Speed ambled in at that point. "Sorry, H. Got stuck in traffic."  
  
"I'll bet," muttered Eric from the other side of the bed. "Was it traffic in your bedroom or on the roads?"  
  
"That's enough, gentlemen." Horatio's quiet voice sliced through the banter like a knife. The idea of someone preying on the elderly in a nursing home lit all of his fires. Like children, many of these people were completely helpless. "Speed, Eric, you two process this room. Calleigh, stick with Alexx and learn what we can from the scissors when they come out of the wound." He turned to Adele. "Who found the body?"  
  
"One of the nurses. Angela. She's down in the staff break room. She was pretty upset."  
  
"I'd like to talk to her." Horatio and Adele exited the room, but he did give Calleigh a smile along the way, and she loved him more for it. He always kept tabs on her, even in the middle of a crusade.  
  
Darla was still fluttering outside the room like a bird shut in a garage, frantically seeking the exit. "How long do you think it will take to clear this up?"  
  
"As long as is necessary, as short as is possible," Horatio replied.  
  
"Is there any way to keep this out of the papers? The families of the residents might get uneasy, you know, thinking that a murderer was running around our nursing home." She straightened slightly, taking the image as a personal affront to her efficiency. "This is a very well-run home, you know."  
  
"If I were you, I'd worry more about the patients and less about what the families think," said Horatio. "If the families think one of the residents was murdered in her sleep last night, they're exactly right. The best thing you can do is to cooperate with us so we can close this investigation as quickly as possible." He sounded more polite than he felt, although the icy edge in his voice was there. He would be willing to bet that Darla's mind at the moment was occupied with the financial ledger, not the patients or their families as people. It was the private paying patients, not those on Medicaid, that made the biggest difference to any nursing home. Losing one or two of those would be a painful wound to the income. "Was the woman who was killed also demented?"  
  
"Not as badly as Mary, her roommate, but she was pleasantly confused, yes."  
  
Horatio seconded Alexx in hoping that she had died in her sleep, never having the chance to be unpleasantly confused. "Are the doors locked at night?"  
  
"Yes, from the outside. From the inside, you can still get out. We can't bolt the doors from the inside because of fire regulations."  
  
"What about the patients with dementia or Alzheimer's? How do you keep them here?"  
  
"We don't have a locked ward, although we're building one next year. Even with that, the doors would open if you leaned on them long enough, but it would set off the fire alarm. At the moment, what we use is a Wandergard system. The demented patients wear a bracelet, and it triggers an alarm if they try to leave."  
  
"How loud an alarm?"  
  
"Extremely. It won't shut off until it's disabled, either. I haven't asked Angela, but I'm sure if one went off last night, the night shift would have noticed."  
  
"How many on night shift?" asked Adele.  
  
"Two per wing. Angela and Karen were on last night on this wing. The other two shifts, of course, have much more staff."  
  
"Thank you," Horatio said. "I'd like to talk to Angela." Darla indicated the way to the break room and started to trail along with them. "Alone," Horatio clarified. Questioning a witness in the presence of his or her supervisor rarely helped. Darla gave a fluttering sigh and turned back to the door of room 36. Horatio and Adele continued on down the hall.  
  
"She's a prize, isn't she?" Adele commented.  
  
"Right. What she's concerned about is losing patients, from a purely financial standpoint."  
  
"Doesn't mean she's guilty of anything," said Adele.  
  
"Doesn't mean she's guilty of murder," Horatio corrected. "She's definitely guilty of callousness." They reached the break room and entered. Angela was sitting at the table staring blankly at a cup of coffee like she wasn't sure how it had arrived in her hand. Horatio knocked gently on the door they had just come through. "Angela? Could we please talk to you for a minute?"  
  
"Yes," she said in a flat tone. "Did Grace suffer? Do you know that yet?"  
  
Horatio instantly marked her humanity score card much higher than Darla's. "We're pretty sure she didn't. She probably never knew the murderer was there. Just went in her sleep." He and Adele sat down at the table. "Could you tell us about this morning, Angela?"  
  
"I was doing meds and vitals. I went in, and she was just lying there with those scissors sticking out. So I screamed."  
  
Adele put a soothing hand on the other woman's. "I'm sure most people would have screamed." Angela looked up and gave her a wavering smile.  
  
"Did you notice anything on entering the room? Before you saw Grace, I mean. Any impression that something was wrong?"  
  
Angela thought about it. "No. I was busy with Mary, though. She's in the first bed. I try to focus on the patient I'm with, so I'm not sure I would have noticed anything."  
  
"Is Mary any hope as a witness?" Horatio already knew the answer, but it never hurt to verify it. He planned to make his own observations of Mary later, just for good measure.  
  
"No. All she ever says is, 'I need help.' Even if she wasn't asleep, she wouldn't realize what was happening."  
  
"Tell me about last night, Angela," Horatio said. "Was it a quiet night? Did the Wandergard go off at any point?"  
  
"No, the Wandergard didn't go off. It was a pretty quiet night. Melinda, in 28B, had a rough night. She has inoperable cancer and no family left. She's just here to die. She couldn't sleep last night. She wanted to just talk instead of take a pill, though, so I spent most of the night sitting there listening to her." She looked up and smiled at Horatio suddenly. "So many of these people have wonderful stories, and no one will even bother to listen."  
  
Horatio wished, not for the first time, that he had known his own grandparents. "I'm sure of that. So you talked to Melinda all night? Never got called by the aide on duty to help with someone else?"  
  
"No. Karen usually just reads a book at the desk. Night shift is pretty quiet. I do have a few patients who need meds during the night, so I made the rounds then, but that's only a few."  
  
"Did you go into room 36 at any point prior to this morning?"  
  
"No. Neither one of them needed anything during the night."  
  
"So Karen would have been more likely to notice anyone moving around, since you were with Melinda most of the time."  
  
"I doubt it, actually," said Angela. "Like I said, she reads. I have to speak to her three or four times to get her to surface. If one of the call buttons went off or the Wandergard, that would be loud enough to jolt anyone. But I really think someone walking quietly could go right by her, and she wouldn't notice."  
  
Horatio and Adele exchanged looks of resignation. "Thank you, Angela. I would like to hear this Wandergard, if I may. Just to see how loud it is."  
  
Angela stood up from the table. The nursing home was shaped like a giant starfish, and they walked in silence past the center hub and back into the wing where the murder had occurred. Angela surveyed the patients moving around the hall and stepped forward to gently place a hand on one arm. "Pearl. Good morning, Pearl. Would you like to go for a walk with me for a minute?"  
  
The patient, who actually resembled a pearl with her round, fluffy, white hair framing her face, smiled at the nurse. "Certainly, Angel."  
  
"Angela," Adele corrected, sotto voce, so that only Horatio could hear. "Poor woman."  
  
"Actually, I imagine several of them call Angela that," he responded just as softly. She considered, then nodded.  
  
"This way, Pearl. Let's go." Angela steered the woman toward the door. The instant they went through it, the alarm went off. It was absolutely piercing, carrying clear down the hall. Horatio didn't think that anyone, even the most oblivious reader, would be too lost in thought to hear that. "Sorry, Pearl, I can't take a walk after all." Angela steered her passenger back into the wing.  
  
"Some other time, Angel," Pearl replied pleasantly and meandered off back up the hall.  
  
The alarm was still sounding. Angela indicated the small control box, and Horatio leaned closer, studying it. "It keeps ringing until one of us disables it." She pulled out a ball point pen and stuck the tip into a tiny slot on the bottom of the control box. The alarm stopped, and the silence seemed oppressively loud for a minute, rushing to fill in the vacuum.  
  
Horatio looked at Adele. "I think it's safe to say that anyone would have noticed that. Thank you, Angela. We'd like your phone number, but you can go home now and try to get some sleep. You've been a lot of help."  
  
Angela gave them a weak smile. "Thanks. Let me know, would you?"  
  
"Of course," Horatio replied. Adele started taking down Angela's information, and Horatio walked up the hall again toward 36. Alexx was just coming out of the room. Walking down the hall ahead of Horatio was a man in an expensive looking suit. His distinguished gray hair was perfectly styled, not one strand out of place. Alexx exited 36 right as he was almost up to the door, and they both gave a startled jump, then stared at each other. Horatio was reminded of two circling cats, fur rising in anticipation of a fight. This was so unusual for Alexx that he lengthened stride a little, moving with calm speed to stand at her side. "Everything okay, Alexx?"  
  
"Fine, Horatio," she replied. He accepted the answer and just stood there quietly, a silent but imposing presence, ready if needed.  
  
The man finally spoke. His voice was as silkily expensive as the rest of him. "Alexx Woods. Amazing who you run into down here."  
  
"That's Doctor Alexx Woods," she said proudly, emphasizing the title.  
  
"Unfortunately. If it were my decision, it would have gone differently."  
  
"We both know what your decision was. Just like we both know what your responsibility was." Horatio had never seen Alexx like this, claws unsheathed, eyes blazing with contempt. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Fulfilling my responsibilities," he replied smoothly. "I'm staff physician for this nursing home."  
  
"You on staff at a nursing home? Why? What's in it for you?" Alexx all but spat the words at him.  
  
"I'm helping the sick. Don't you remember our oath, Alexx?"  
  
"That's Dr. Woods to you," she insisted. "And I do remember the oath. It actually meant something to me." She looked away suddenly, as if he deserved no more of her time. She faced Horatio, deliberately turning her back on the man. "Horatio, I'm heading back for CSI. I'll call you when I'm done with the post."  
  
"Thank you, Alexx." She spun on her heels and marched toward the exit. Calleigh, who had been standing in the door of the room watching this exchange, shot Horatio a questioning look and then hurried after her friend. Horatio deliberately turned and planted himself directly in the path of the man he had mentally dubbed J. R. Ewing. "I didn't catch your name, Mr. . . " He paused invitingly. Actually, he had already worked out that it was doctor, but if Alexx thought he didn't deserve the title, Horatio wasn't going to give it to him.  
  
"That's Doctor," the man insisted. "Dr. Christopher H. Sterling III."  
  
Horatio refused to be impressed and refused to yield ground. "Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Police," he replied smoothly.  
  
Sterling closed the distance a little, trying for the conspiratorial two executives exchanging information tone. "Does Alexx work for you? How much do you know about her?"  
  
"All I need to know," Horatio said firmly. "She's a passionate, caring, and brilliantly competent ME who is an invaluable asset to this city."  
  
Sterling met his eyes for a minute, then shrugged, recognizing a brick wall. "I'd better get to work. I have patients to see." He stood there for another second, then, as Horatio still refused to move, went sideways around him and on down the hall. Horatio followed him with his eyes. Now what was that about? He determined to have a conversation with Alexx later today, to give her a chance to talk if she wished to. For now, he refocused his mind with a little difficulty on the case. 


	2. Do No Harm 2

Chapter 2. See part 1 for triple disclaimer.  
  
***  
  
"To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents . . . "  
  
Hippocrates, the Physician's Oath  
  
***  
  
Melinda was beautiful in that fragile, luminous way that is reserved for those on the brink of death who look back calmly with more satisfaction than regrets. The masterpiece of her life was completed, and in the final analysis, she wouldn't have changed it. Horatio and Adele both spoke to her quietly, reverently almost. She was so close to eternity right now that just being with her was like being in church.  
  
"Yes, Angel was here most of the night, keeping me company. She went out four times to check on things or to give meds to other patients, but she always came straight back."  
  
"Did she mention anything unusual about the night, anything that she might have seen but didn't seem important at the time?"  
  
Melinda smiled. "The only unusual thing she mentioned is that Carol didn't fight her over taking her pills."  
  
Horatio smiled back at her. "That's unusual?"  
  
"Oh yes, she's notorious. She bites, Mr. Caine. She's so bad that no one person ever tends to her alone. We're not all well-behaved here, just like any community."  
  
"So Angela would have taken Karen with her to deal with Carol?"  
  
"Yes. But Carol didn't fight for once. Moody, she is. I heard she threw her supper tray last night, but when Angel saw her, she was calm."  
  
Horatio met her eyes with softened but still direct intensity. "Did you notice anything yourself, Melinda? Hear anything at any point?"  
  
She thought about it. "No. I'm sorry, Mr. Caine. I wish I could help you."  
  
"You help us by not inventing things. Thank you for your time." Adele and Horatio both gently shook the skeletal hand that was offered to them. They left the room still subdued.  
  
"I could never work here," said Adele suddenly.  
  
Horatio nodded. "Some of them don't appreciate it, some of them don't understand it, and many of the most beautiful ones die."  
  
"Exactly." Adele looked at him. "Where do you think we should go from here, H?" It was a long-standing but good-natured joke between them that he could never let her do her job unassisted.  
  
"We need statements from Karen, as well as the other staff on night shift in the other wings. Almost everyone working here came running when Angela screamed, so we can talk to them under context of finding the body."  
  
Adele nodded. "I'll get a list from Darla. You agree that they're all suspects at this point?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. I think we've established that probably nobody got in, because the doors were locked. Find out from Darla about keys, but I doubt many people had one to the outside doors. Certainly not every employee. No reason for it. That means the murderer is probably either staff on third shift or patient."  
  
"Patient?" Adele had started off, but she stopped at that.  
  
"Alexx thinks, as a preliminary finding, anyway, that the murderer had medical knowledge."  
  
"Leading us to the staff."  
  
"And possibly to the patients," Horatio insisted. "These people haven't been in a nursing home forever. They did have lives, jobs. Probably some of them medical. And patient or staff, the murderer is still at large here. I'll check victimology, too. See if we can find any kind of motive at all. We can cross reference Grace with all the other names, looking for links." Darla herself fluttered up at that point, and Horatio addressed her. "We're going to need a complete list of the people working here last night. Also people with the outside door key." Darla hesitated, and Horatio cut off her protest. "And a list of the names of all of the residents."  
  
Darla jerked to an offended halt. "I can't give you their names. There is such a thing as medical confidentiality. We take our responsibilities there very seriously."  
  
"I'm not asking for their medical records, just their names."  
  
"I can't share that information. It's confidential."  
  
"Fine," Horatio said, spotting Speed exiting 36 just beyond them. "Speed." The trace expert came up to him. "Take a picture of this sign." Horatio indicated the bulletin board by the nurse's station that included the complete names and room numbers of all patients. Speed obediently focused and snapped. "Thank you. Now, go to every other wing and take a picture of all similar signs."  
  
"Sure thing, H." Speed headed off with the camera, and Horatio turned back to a speechless Darla.  
  
"If I were you, I'd keep your medically confidential information a little more private. One more thing. I'd like to talk to Mary, the roommate."  
  
"It won't do you any good," Darla insisted.  
  
"I won't know that until I try, will I?"  
  
Darla's eyes fell first. "She's at the end of the hall, in the wheelchair. The lady with a blue sweater."  
  
"Thank you. She's all yours, Adele." Adele rolled her eyes at him, and Horatio started down the hall toward Mary. Behind him, Adele, like a paperwork dentist, started painfully extracting information.  
  
Mary was staring into the empty air. Horatio knew this was hopeless as soon as he saw her eyes, but he had to try. "Mary? Could I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
She perked up and focused on him. "I need help."  
  
"What do you need help with?"  
  
A look of confusion crossed her face for a second. That wasn't the usual response she got. The train of thought that started promptly derailed in the fog of her mind, though, and she switched back to routine. "I need help."  
  
"Thank you, Mary." Horatio patted her on the shoulder and turned away. He would look in on Eric, then surprise Adele by telling her to head on out alone to witness questioning. He wanted to check on Alexx. He walked down the hall to 36 again, passing several residents. Confused eyes, resentful eyes, and, worst of all, lonely eyes. He rarely met a job that made him think his was easy in comparison, but this one came close.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was just starting to examine the scissors when she felt him. "Hi, Handsome."  
  
"Hi, Beautiful. How's it going?" The words were utterly professional. The smile was not. She returned the smile full-force herself but stuck to business, following his lead.  
  
"I'm just getting started. They look like plain scissors, though. The nursing home probably has several pair. I'll check for fingerprints."  
  
"Do that. How's Alexx?"  
  
Calleigh put down the scissors and faced him directly. "She didn't want to talk about it, at least not yet. She said she needed to think through some things first. I've never seen her like that, have you?"  
  
"No. I'll go down and check on her. See you later." He kissed her, then started for the autopsy room. He was almost at the door when his cell phone rang. "Horatio."  
  
It was Alexx herself. "Horatio, I've got results on the post. Also, I've got a request, not specifically involving the case. I'd like to see you some time today, if you can squeeze it in."  
  
Horatio opened the autopsy room door. "How about now?"  
  
Alexx jumped, startled, then smiled at him. "Now would be fine."  
  
"Let's go up to my office." He had a feeling this conversation would be easier as a private one.  
  
"Thanks." They headed in that direction together. "First, I owe you an explanation."  
  
"No, you don't," Horatio corrected.  
  
"Well, you deserve one. And it does matter to the favor I want to ask you."  
  
"Okay." Horatio yielded. They reached his office and settled down with the desk between them. Alexx wouldn't feel distanced by it, and Horatio had a feeling somehow that this conversation would be professional as much as personal. He sat back and looked at her, opening the lines of communication without saying a word, letting her set the tone.  
  
She started in a low voice. "I've always wanted to be a doctor. Since I was a kid. I was the oldest of six, and I basically took care of the others, cleaned the house, everything. I loved it. I realized then that I wanted to spend my life caring for people who needed it. So I went to medical school." A smile crossed her face briefly. "I met Jonathan there on the first day of residency. Somebody who shared the same passion I did. We were working our way through it together, and all my dreams seemed to be coming true. And then I caught an error in a chart one day. One of the most respected doctors on staff was involved. His name was Sterling." She still refused to call him doctor.  
  
"What did you do?" Horatio was fascinated. He never pried into the details of his workers' distant backgrounds, granting them that much privacy. He only looked for their present qualifications and their present attitudes. If those satisfied him, their pasts were none of his business.  
  
Alexx's eyes fell, studying her hands which were clenched together. "Nothing. I thought there must be some mistake. He was the head of the surgery department, and all the residents loved working under him. He was going to teach us to be successful doctors, he said."  
  
"Successful?"  
  
She looked back up to face him. "That's how he put it. Successful. All the evidence was there for me to recognize what he was, even before I caught the error, but I wouldn't see it. He cared more for the prestige and the power than the patients. He enjoyed playing God, and unfortunately, the medical world is set up to encourage that too often. All through the program, we were told to respect the older doctors. They were our teachers, mentors. We never contradicted them, because they always knew best. Especially Sterling. Everyone in the medical community looked up to that man. I even thought I was mistaken, that he hadn't overlooked something in that patient's history. I knew better, but I couldn't admit to myself that this man I had actually admired had nothing at all inside. So the woman went on into surgery without being prechecked for a condition she should have been checked for. All the indications were there, but Sterling was too busy polishing his image to put them together. She died, Horatio." She hesitated for a minute, and he let the silence build, both of them offering it together to the memory of that wronged patient. "Afterwards, I confronted him. He threw the blame for the error onto me. I couldn't even say I hadn't noticed, because I had; I just didn't speak up. He tried to get me thrown out of the program, and I managed to save my degree only because there were some other doctors who spoke for me. But he never took any responsibility for that mistake. Then, when I did graduate from the program, he managed to get me blacklisted. He had influence. He'd spent his whole life building influence. I couldn't get a position anywhere in the city as a doctor. I loved it there, always dreamed of working there to give something back to those people, and he ruined it for me. I finally got a position with the coroner's office, totally as a last resort. I wanted to treat life, not diagnose death."  
  
"You feel differently now, though."  
  
She nodded. "They need me. I realized that slowly. These people deserve just as much consideration as patients, just as much caring and dignity, and no one speaks for them."  
  
"You do."  
  
"I do now. I made a vow to myself, too, that I'd speak up when I saw errors or potential for harm. I'd never just bury it again, no matter who was involved." Her eyes met his directly. "I'm keeping that promise now."  
  
Horatio pieced it together. "You want me to check out Sterling? We don't know that he's the murderer, Alexx. In fact, he's down the list of suspects. I'll rule him out, of course, but a lot of better suspects were there last night. We don't know that he was."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm not asking you to pin something on him that he didn't do. In fact, I agree. He didn't kill her. It was a single stab, by the way, perfect angle, between the ribs and to the heart. I'd swear that whoever did that had medical knowledge. Quite a bit of strength, too. Either a man or a strong woman."  
  
"So how are you ruling him out?"  
  
"The viciousness of it. Whoever killed that poor woman cared about doing it. Sterling doesn't care enough to kill like that. If he killed anyone, he'd use poison or something, not stab them with a pair of scissors. Everything he stands for is polish, success, and influence. Everything about this murder is pure hate. The scissors actually went in even further than necessary. One violent blow. That isn't Sterling. He'd be subtle."  
  
Horatio shuddered. Pure hate. Having that quality at large among those nursing home residents made him even more fired up to find this perp. "Then what are you asking me to do, Alexx?"  
  
"Sterling isn't there to help the elderly. Nursing home staff physicians aren't overpaid, and he never did anything out of altruism in his life. It worries me to have him loose there. Whatever he's up to, it isn't benefiting them." She leaned forward to give more intensity to her words. "I want you to find out whatever it is he is doing, and I want you to take him down, break him, and take away his power to hurt any more people." Her eyes implored him.  
  
Horatio considered, and it was her turn to let the silence build. She realized what she was asking him. He was the only person she knew capable of fighting Sterling on his own level and adding caring besides, but the fight would cost him, as all such fights inevitably did. When he spoke finally, his voice was as quiet and even as ever. "Answer one question for me, Alexx." He paused, and she nodded. It was the one question she had known he would ask. "Who are you doing this for?"  
  
Her warm eyes met his with complete sincerity. "It isn't for me. I'll admit it, ten years ago, it would have been for me. But I've moved past him now. This is for them."  
  
He weighed her reply, then nodded, and she stood up, knowing this conversation was over. "Okay, then, Alexx. For them."  
  
"Thank you, Horatio." Alexx left the office, once again carefully inspecting her own feelings about what she had just unleashed on Sterling. He had deliberately tried to shatter her dreams and ruin her career. There was no glee, though, no revenge. There was only relief and, finally, a chance to atone for her own fatal silence all those years ago. Not for herself, but for them. 


	3. Do No Harm 3

Chapter 3. See chapter 1 for triple disclaimer.  
  
***  
  
"In whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrongdoing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman."  
  
Hippocrates, the Physician's Oath  
  
***  
  
Calleigh's mission was abruptly frozen by reverie. Horatio was sitting in front of one of the main search computers in the lab, and she stood there for a moment, unable to proceed and temporarily not wanting to, just watching him. His head was tilted slightly, his eyes absorbing the screen but without the intensity that came when they tightened onto one object. He was questing for a pattern, on a scent that he hadn't totally defined yet. His back was still as straight as ever, though. Most of the CSIs, when working with computers, would lean forward, coaxing the computer, trying to enter its world of data to find the result. Horatio would simply open himself but remain apart and wait for the result to find its way from the data to him. He looked like the guardian angel of the city to Calleigh as he sat there, patiently but intensely tracking his lead. She smiled, and her smile shattered the moment as he sensed her pleasure and turned. "Hey. Did you want me?"  
  
Yes, she thought. She closed the distance and held out one of the two Subway sandwiches she had. "Lunchtime. Past it, in fact."  
  
"Mmm. So it is." He glanced at his watch, wondering how it got to be 1:30. "How did you know I hadn't eaten already?"  
  
"In the middle of a case? Are you kidding? I still can't work out how you haven't starved years ago. Come on, Horatio, whatever it is will still be there in 5 minutes." He pivoted his chair sideways, turning his shoulder to the computer, and accepted his sandwich as she took the other chair to face him.  
  
"Thanks. You're an angel."  
  
"Speaking of angels, how's Alexx?"  
  
"Doing okay. She's a remarkable person."  
  
"We knew that already," Calleigh retorted with her mouth full.  
  
"Indeed we did. We knew who she was, but now we know how she got there." He filled Calleigh in on Sterling while they ate.  
  
"A reverse case," she commented when he had finished. "Usually you track the evidence to the perp, not the perp to the evidence. She's probably right, though. He's up to something. Too slick, too polished."  
  
"He tried to undercut Alexx with me, too." He reported Sterling's last remarks in the hall.  
  
Calleigh hadn't been there for that part. "Jerk," she said viciously and caught her breath as Rosalind, as if answering Calleigh's mental wishes regarding Sterling, kicked sharply.  
  
"You okay?" Horatio's expression switched to concern instantly.  
  
"Fine. Rosalind just decided to contribute to the discussion. She's getting more active."  
  
Horatio leaned forward and lovingly touched her abdomen. "You take it easy in there, you hear? I don't want your mother damaged."  
  
Calleigh laughed. "Don't worry, Horatio. For once, I've got the size advantage in this one." She finished her own sandwich. "So where are you starting?"  
  
"I've been running Sterling through the database. There are lots of medical associations, as well as the state licensing board. Pretty easy to establish a trail. He came to Florida a year and a half ago to retire. Eight months ago, he reactivated his profession and became staff physician at the home. No office address recorded. I believe those are his only patients at the moment. He would probably say that he was bored with retirement and wanted some part-time work." He turned back toward the computer screen, frowning at it. "On the surface, nothing jumps out, but we won't stay on the surface. I've asked Alexx to look up all death certificates filed by him in those eight months to see if anything seems odd."  
  
"Patients do die in nursing homes. Without a boost, I mean."  
  
"I know," he said, thinking of Melinda. "We have to have a starting point, though. Also, I'm going to talk to the patients myself. Officially, I'll ask if they noticed anything this morning or last night."  
  
"And unofficially?"  
  
"Two things. First, I'll sound them out on Sterling, without making it obvious. I might trip over something useful there. Second, I'll try to work out which of them have medical training. Speed just got back with the first lot of evidence, and he's going to develop those pictures of the patient lists and try to cross-reference the names both in medical and nursing associations and for any connection with Grace. It can't hurt to just ask the patients themselves about their former jobs in the meantime, though. I'll make it an innocent enough question, and that's too easy to verify for people to lie about. What have the scissors told you?"  
  
"The fingerprints are odd. Several sets, which I'd expected, but they're all blurred, even the top ones. I'll try to separate and sort them this afternoon, but I'd swear the last person to use those wore gloves."  
  
Horatio gave her his impressed supervisor smile, with a little bonus added. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Eric, you're still at the nursing home, right? Here's what I want you to do. Take pictures of the supply closet. Not the locked one with the meds, just the regular supplies. Especially note if there are Latex gloves there as well as scissors. Dust the doorknob of the supply closet for fingerprints. Then go to every room on that wing and inspect the trash. You are looking for Latex gloves. Not the trash in the nurse's station, but the patient rooms. Keep me posted." He snapped the phone shut and smiled at Calleigh. "I'd better get going. Lots of patients to talk to."  
  
"Do you want me?" she asked.  
  
Yes, he thought. "No, stay here and work on the scissors. Also, be sure you don't stay past 5:00." He absolutely refused to let her work late these days.  
  
"Okay. I'll have supper ready by 7:30."  
  
"I'm not sure I can get away by then."  
  
"Well, I'll have it ready at 7:30 anyway. The patients in nursing homes go to bed early, so you can't stay there too late. Just remember, though, if you don't get home on time, all of my preparation will be wasted, and my feelings will be hurt."  
  
He leaned over to kiss her. "Couldn't have that, could we?"  
  
"Nope. I don't think I'd ever get over it."  
  
His lips lingered against hers a second longer, even as he got up. "See you at 7:30, then," he said. "It's a date." He gave her a final smile and left. Calleigh stared after him admiringly, mentally weighing him against Alexx's old enemy. Elegant, velvet strength versus slick, polished image. Sterling, she thought, you haven't got a chance.  
  
***  
  
Horatio's cell phone rang as he pulled the Hummer into the nursing home parking lot. It was Adele.  
  
"H, I've just finished talking to Karen, the night aide on that wing."  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"She's exactly like Angela said. She likes night shift because it gives her time to read. She enjoys murder mysteries, she said, and her husband confirmed that it takes a bomb to get her attention when she's involved in one."  
  
Horatio shook his head, seeing the incredible irony. "She was so engrossed in a murder mystery that she didn't notice an actual murder happening?"  
  
"Right." Adele sighed. "I believe her. She just didn't notice. I don't think she's involved."  
  
"I agree," Horatio said. "Anyone guilty would have a better story than that."  
  
"I'm just heading on to the next interview. Want to meet me there?"  
  
"No, why don't you just talk to all of the night shift staff yourself? There's no need for me to be with you."  
  
Adele was silent for a good five seconds. "H, are you feeling okay?"  
  
Horatio grinned at the phone. "Fine. I'll be at the nursing home, talking to the patients."  
  
"You think it's a patient, don't you?"  
  
"Adele, what I think doesn't matter. It's what the evidence tells us."  
  
"And so far, it's telling you the perp is a patient."  
  
"No, it isn't." The faintest edge of annoyance crept into his tone. Horatio couldn't explain to himself why he was sure it was a patient, and things he couldn't explain always annoyed him. "The evidence doesn't favor either option at this stage. We have to cover both fronts, Adele. So you take the night shift staff, and I'll take the patients." He didn't tell Adele about his other reason for talking to the patients. They would be less guarded than the staff, and he might pick up leads on Sterling.  
  
Adele relented. He believed it was a patient, but she would never get him to say so yet. "Okay, H. I'll keep you posted."  
  
"Thank you, Adele." He pocketed his cell phone and got out of the Hummer. Tall shade trees framed the nursing home. Even the trees were old here, beautifully and gracefully aged. He studied them for a moment as he collected his thoughts, planning his lines of conversation. Finally, he turned and went into the building. He headed straight for Melinda's room, admitting to himself that he wanted to see if she was still alive. If she was, he had better make her first on his list to talk to. She might not still be here tomorrow, or even tonight.  
  
She was alive, but she seemed even frailer, somehow, than she had that morning. She lay in the bed, a skeleton covered by skin, but the eyes were still alert. He knocked gently on the door of the room, and she turned from the window to face him. "Mr. Caine. Did you want to talk to me again?"  
  
"Yes, if I may." He crossed to the bedside. For this one interview, he asked her his question directly. She had already stripped all pretense away as she prepared for death, and in salute of that achievement, he would not offer her any. "Melinda, what is your opinion of Dr. Sterling?"  
  
She didn't ask him why. "He's a competent doctor," she said slowly. "But he doesn't care. I can tell, when he examines me. I'm nothing to him."  
  
Interesting way of putting it. "What do you think would matter to him?"  
  
"Money, but not simple money. He'd like money resulting from superior knowledge. Like making a killing on an inside stock trade, for instance. Something where he could feel above others."  
  
Horatio smiled at her. "Thank you. That does help. How long have you known him?"  
  
"Five months, I've been here. Long enough to see past him. Actually, he seemed all polished and distinguished and caring at first, but he lost interest in me when he found out I didn't have any family."  
  
Horatio's eyes sharpened. "He asked you about your family?"  
  
"Within the first week. Actually, he'd already noted that my next of kin listed was a friend. He asked me if that was accurate, if I really had no family at all. That was when he switched to not caring. The front was still there, but his mind wasn't on me."  
  
Possibilities raced through Horatio's mind, and he forced himself not to go too quickly. He didn't want to miss something here. He had to stay open- minded. "Thank you, Melinda. One more question. What was your job?" It was pure curiosity. Along with Angela, she had the best alibi for last night.  
  
She smiled back at him. "I was a school teacher. I taught remedial reading. The students would be sent to me if they couldn't read by 4th grade. 45 years, Mr. Caine, and I never had a single failure." She was justifiably proud of it. "Even now, sometimes, a former student will look me up in here and thank me. I'm not even sure how they find me, but they track me down. People I haven't seen for 30 years. It makes all the difference, just to know you've touched one."  
  
"You've touched more than one, I'm sure," he replied. "You've left a priceless legacy. I have to get on to other interviews, but I do appreciate your patience with my questions." He was almost out the room when another thought struck him. School teachers. Undoubtedly, there were students who carried grudges, real or imagined, into life, just like there were students who were forever grateful. "Melinda, was Grace a school teacher also?"  
  
"Yes, she was, a history teacher. Retired 20 years ago. Is that important?"  
  
"It could be. Again, thank you." He took another step out the door, then stopped again and turned back. "If I don't get a chance to say it later, good bye, Melinda."  
  
She met his eyes with pure understanding and with no pretense. "Thank you," she said simply. "If I'm still around to hear it, let me know who killed that poor woman."  
  
"I will," Horatio promised. He exited the room.  
  
***  
  
Of the first four patients he talked to, only one of them seemed to like Sterling, although Horatio was much more circumspect than he had been with Melinda. He noted that patient's name for further research. The key would be in the patients who did matter to Sterling. One of the first four had been a nurse, and the others had no medical connection. None had noticed anything last night. Horatio filed all of this mentally and entered another room. It was a double, but only one bed was occupied. The woman looked vacantly out the window. Horatio knocked on the open door. "Pam?" He had looked at the name card posted just outside. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
The sleepy eyes turned slowly toward him, then widened abruptly. He realized that she was staring at his badge. "You're finally here, then."  
  
Horatio approached her, uncertain if she was seeing him in the present or as someone from the past. "Who do you think I am, Pam?"  
  
"The police," she said hollowly. "I've been expecting you." Horatio starting weighing her statements against last night, but she went on before his thought was completed. "All these years, I've been expecting you. I knew it would catch up with me."  
  
She obviously needed to say this before he would be able to get anything else out of her, so Horatio prompted her gently. "Why do you think the police have been looking for you?"  
  
"All these years," she repeated. "But it was an accident. I swear, it was an accident. My husband was driving, and I tried to get him to stop." Her eyes, tortured with old memories, met his. "He never would listen to me. The man died, and he was afraid when he found out. He said no one would know, that our car wasn't marked. I told him it would catch up with us, though. All these years. He's just not here to see it. I told him to stop. I swear, I told him to stop." Her voice was rising slightly, and Horatio put a hand gently on her arm.  
  
"I'm sure you did, Pam. You tried your best, but he just wouldn't listen, would he?" She shook her head. "And you were afraid of him, right? Afraid to push it?"  
  
She nodded, and a solitary tear welled up and spilled over. "He would hit me sometimes. He said I deserved it."  
  
"No," Horatio reassured her. "You didn't deserve it."  
  
Her eyes were looking beyond him into the past again. "July 8th," she said vaguely.  
  
Horatio froze. Somehow his hand remained gently on her arm, but the rest of him tightened up like a violin string, almost quivering. "July 8th? What about it?"  
  
"The accident. It was July 8th, late at night. And I told him to stop. I swear, I told him to stop. The man died."  
  
Horatio forced his tone to be casual. "Did you read that later in the paper, Pam?" She nodded. "Was anyone with him?"  
  
Just as she started to reply, Horatio's cell phone rang, and they both jumped. Horatio pulled it out reluctantly. "Horatio."  
  
A second's pause. "H? Is this not a good time?" It was Eric.  
  
Horatio collected his scattered thoughts. The case. He was here on the case. He had to put that first. "Now is fine, Eric. What have you got?"  
  
"I found gloves in the trash. Room 21."  
  
Horatio sighed. "I'll be right there." He looked at Pam again, but she was already staring vacantly out the window. He turned without saying goodbye and left, shaking off the past determinedly and focusing on the present. He felt totally collected by the time he met Eric in room 21.  
  
Eric pointed out the gloves in the trash can. "I took pictures. H, these two couldn't have done it. They can't walk." Horatio studied the occupant of the first bed. The whole face as well as the body was slack, the eyes dull. The man wasn't even looking at them, and they were right by his bed. Horatio looked at the other bed. Not much difference. Probably, the nursing home tried to match roommates in level of activity and interaction. These two were only shells now, pitiful ruins of the people they had been. He turned back to Eric. "On the other hand, it's a great room to pick to discard the gloves. Whoever did this thinks, even if his thinking is twisted. He wouldn't throw them away in his own room."  
  
"He?"  
  
"Alexx thinks it's either a man or a very strong woman. Take the gloves back to CSI, Eric, and superglue them. Look for prints on the inside. Also, check that one stain against Grace's blood." One glove had a small red splotch on the little finger. The right glove. Horatio recreated the scene, visualizing one downward stab. That finger would have wound up right next to the entry site. Not enough bleeding to drip, since the scissors remained in the wound, but enough to mark the glove  
  
Eric carefully fished the gloves out of the trash, then froze halfway in the act of straightening up. "There's more of that blue yarn." He collected that, too. "Has Speed finished analyzing that first sample?"  
  
"Not yet. He's working on developing film and running backgrounds first. If you get done with the glove, do the yarn yourself."  
  
Eric nodded. "Will do. See you, H." He left, and Horatio stood in the doorway looking up and down the hall. Pure hate, Alexx had said. It was here somewhere. He had to find it and not let himself get distracted. The patients deserved that.  
  
Mary rolled up in her wheelchair, propelling herself painfully slowly. "I need help," she said urgently.  
  
Horatio smiled at her sadly. "A lot of us do, Mary."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh lit the candles on the table at 7:29, right before she heard the door open. Horatio entered and just stood there for a minute, absorbing the domestic scene. The meal laid out and ready, the candles flickering gently, and best of all, Calleigh. His wife, pregnant with his daughter. He smiled at her and came the rest of the way across the room, but his brief pause inside the door had already given her time to assess his mood. "What's wrong, Horatio?"  
  
He hugged her tightly, holding her, and she let herself be held as long as he needed to. Finally, he let her go. "I'll tell you later. Let's just talk about something else, Calleigh."  
  
She hesitated. "Later tonight," she said firmly.  
  
"Later tonight," he agreed. "I'm just still working it out myself. I'll tell you."  
  
"Okay," she said, obligingly changing the subject. "How's the case? I mean, the cases?" She knew it was something other than the cases bothering him.  
  
He ran through the results of the afternoon's interviews as they ate. He had spoken to about two thirds of the patients now. Six had medical backgrounds, only four seemed to like Sterling, and none had noticed anything about last night. Calleigh was especially interested in Melinda's information. "Money with superior knowledge. That's Sterling, all right. She sounds like a remarkably perceptive woman."  
  
"She is. Cal, did you ever know your grandparents?"  
  
"Only briefly. I never knew my mother's parents. They warned her against the wedding and then disowned her when she went ahead, so they didn't want anything to do with us. I knew Daddy's parents, but they both died by the time I was seven."  
  
"I never knew mine," he said thoughtfully. "They all died before I was born." His voice trailed off, and she could tell he was still thinking about whatever was bothering him, not about the case. She left him alone, not pushing yet, and they finished eating in a comfortable silence. Afterwards, they moved over to the couch. Calleigh started massaging his shoulders, which felt like knotted ropes to her. Gradually, she worked the tension free, and he gave a sigh of appreciation. "Mmm. That feels wonderful, Cal."  
  
"You deserve it. I'm glad you're taking Alexx's case, too, even if it doubles the work for you."  
  
"I couldn't turn her down," he said. "I can't let Sterling get away with whatever he's doing. Those poor people are defenseless."  
  
"I know," Calleigh said, kissing the back of his neck lightly. She massaged his shoulders a few more minutes.  
  
"It's trying to turn into a triple case, Calleigh," he said finally. "But I'm not sure if I should take this third one."  
  
She released his shoulders and sat next to him on the couch, facing him. "What's the third one?"  
  
He reported the interrupted conversation with Pam. "July 8th. That's the night my father died."  
  
Calleigh instantly put it together. "You think she and her husband were the ones who ran your father off the road?"  
  
His eyes met hers with painful doubt. "I don't know, Cal. It could be, but I'm sure a lot of other people died on that day, even died in car accidents. It's a big city, even assuming it was in Miami, which she didn't say. And she didn't mention a year."  
  
"Do you think you could get anything more out of her?"  
  
"I didn't try. I had to leave right then, because Eric called. After that, I just kept working the case." She suddenly realized his dilemma. "I could probably find out, either by talking to her, although she's confused, or by backtracking her life, trying to fit in dates and places, seeing if they would have been anywhere near there. The question, though, is does it matter?"  
  
Calleigh sighed. "I see what you mean. The murder, and Sterling, both involve lives in danger now."  
  
"I know I can't divert from the cases now. That's why I didn't go back to talk to her some more. Those people deserve me focusing on them. But even later, when it's all over, should I pursue this or not? Her husband is dead, at least she gave that impression. She's totally confused. Would knowing make any difference? It's over, Calleigh."  
  
She snuggled closer to his side, letting him feel her support. "I can't answer that for you, Horatio. I wish I could help you, but I think you're just going to have to work it out yourself."  
  
He put an arm around her, squeezing her gratefully. She understood, even if she couldn't help. "All my life, Calleigh, I've pursued knowledge. I always wanted to know the truth about everything. But there's something more important than knowledge here."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"People. Not just me, but Pam, too. If I decide to push this, for my sake, she might wind up working it out. She feels bad enough already. The truth might make the situation worse for her. And I don't know if it would matter to me, anyway. Like I said, it's over. Nothing would change."  
  
Calleigh propped her head on his shoulder. "I don't know, Horatio. I'm sorry. I wish I could be more help to you."  
  
His grip on her tightened. "You're here, Cal. Don't ever think you're not doing enough for me."  
  
She leaned into him. "Don't ever think you're not doing enough for anyone. Whatever you decide, Horatio, I'm sure it will be for the best. And I'll always be here."  
  
He kissed her hair, then leaned his head against hers. They both sat there holding each other in silence as night gradually gathered outside the windows and tried, and failed, to reach in. 


	4. Do No Harm 4

Chapter 4. I will try to finish off Do No Harm in only one more chapter. I'm racing a deadline because I really want to publish the final chapter of Complications on February 27, Rosalind's birthday. I've got to get this story and the next one out of the way and get started writing down and posting Complications to have any hope of it. Starting in March, I'm going to be taking several months off from CSIM fic writing, and I really don't want to leave you hanging and Cal still pregnant. Yet to Be (one-parter following Complications) is the natural point to put the series on pause. We'll see if I make it that far by March. Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you enjoy the rest of Do No Harm.  
  
***  
  
"Whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession. . . if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets."  
  
Hippocrates, The Physician's Oath  
  
***  
  
The car was traveling steadily, eagerly, although not speeding. Its headlights sliced easily through the rain and darkness, illuminating the way home a hundred feet at a time. Inside, a man and a boy were holding easy conversation. They were just returning from a 2-day business trip, and Howard Caine had taken his 7-year-old son along with him. It might have struck some people as odd - in fact, it had struck several at the conference as odd - but Horatio loved to accompany his father anywhere, and he was on summer break from school at the moment. He had actually enjoyed the conference. He would always sit quietly, so quietly that the businessmen in each session got over their initial shock and quickly forgot him. While his father paid attention to the subject matter, Horatio would unobtrusively watch people. It was one of his favorite hobbies. His father would always ask him later what he had seen.  
  
"What about the first presentation this morning? What did you think of him?" Howard slowed down carefully for a curve. The night was inky black, with rain falling in sheets.  
  
"I didn't like him," Horatio said definitely. It was an odd comment for him, and his father glanced over at him, puzzled. Horatio found people interesting but almost always likable.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"He wouldn't look at us. He looked straight over everybody. Most of the others look around at the people. Not him."  
  
Howard nodded. "I remember that, now that you mention it. You're right, he didn't make eye contact at all." He glanced at the glowing dial of his wristwatch. "We're not far from Miami now, but it'll be after 10:00 by the time we get home. I wish this rain would let up."  
  
"Hope Mom doesn't worry about us," said Horatio. As the car approached another curve, he suddenly straightened up. "Hey, there's a cat, I think. Something small by the road. I saw the eyes shine."  
  
"Out in the rain?" Howard's gaze followed Horatio's pointing finger, and it was his son who first saw the danger.  
  
"Dad!"  
  
A car slung around the curve ahead, going far too fast for the weather, headlights blindingly on bright. It crossed the center line in its arc around the curve, coming well over into their lane. Howard jumped back to attention and found those lights directly in front of him and closing the gap ominously. He jerked the wheel sharply, and the car ran off the road to the right, the other one barely clearing fenders and only belatedly swerving back into its own lane. The terrain sloped away from the road, and as the car dropped off the pavement, it flipped over. All sense of direction was lost as it rolled several times, and there was nothing to do except hang on and wait it out. For a few eternal seconds, the world was chaos. It ended as abruptly as it started, with a sickening thud as the car came to rest upside down and tilted, the driver's side crumpled around the sturdy tree that had halted their tumble.  
  
Horatio still cringed for a moment, unable to believe at first that it was over, his body afraid to relax. Finally, his clenched muscles let go, and he looked over at his father. He could barely see anything in the dark, but what little he could see was enough. "Dad?"  
  
"Horatio." The voice was weak, stunned, but still concerned. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes," said Horatio, although he already knew that he wasn't. His own pain barely registered, though. There was a third entity in the car with them, and young as he was, Horatio recognized it instantly, recognized it and knew that it had not come for him. "Dad, I'm sorry." He had to say it now, while his father could hear.  
  
"For what?" Howard gasped.  
  
"Distracting you."  
  
"Didn't matter. It was their fault." He sucked in another inadequate breath. "I wonder what those people were hurrying to." His voice, as always in his life, was concerned, empathetic, not angry. Horatio had never once seen him angry. Those were his final words. Silence slowly flooded through the car, the utter silence of someone not breathing. Horatio still looked over at him, unable to accept it, even though he knew. The dial of the watch still glowed, but it was the only thing on that side of the car left alive.  
  
The night pressed in on him. Horatio, slung in an awkward position and held by his seatbelt, could not free himself. The whole door was crumpled against his side, pinning him, the catch hopelessly jammed. The glass of the window had been broken, but with the roof crunched, it was an inadequate exit. Its only function was to let the rain in. Hours and hours of silence, tracked out on that watch dial. Silence, and darkness, and being alone. Occasionally, on the road, the flicker of headlights would come and, just as quickly, leave. The lights on his father's car were no longer working, and Horatio realized that in the rain and darkness, it was invisible from the road. He would have to wait until morning somehow. Finally, six hours later, a set of headlights stopped, and the echo of sounds reached him. Curses and the clatter of a jack and a lug wrench. Horatio managed to reach across, through his dead father's hands, gradually gaining inch by inch against the pain in his side until his fingers finally found the horn. Three long blasts split the night. He collapsed back into his seatbelt, breathing unevenly himself and not caring. Finally, someone was there to notice them. No, someone was there to notice him. He heard the scrambling sounds of footsteps, then saw the shocked face of the man with the flashlight who knelt to peer through the upside down window. Horatio's soul was numb. He managed to say something, but he never remembered what it was, or what the man said in return. The man went away briefly, then returned, and not much later, the sirens came, the police cars and ambulance and the men with their equipment to begin the hours-long process of cutting Horatio out of the shattered remnants of his childhood.  
  
***  
  
"Horatio!" He opened his eyes, automatically looking for that glowing watch dial to mark the passage of time. It wasn't there. The rain, pain, and loneliness had been replaced by soft sheets, dawn, and Calleigh. He took a deep breath just to convince himself that his ribs weren't broken and shook off the shadow of the dream, letting himself be held, relaxing into the present. "Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
"Fine," he said automatically. "Just a dream."  
  
"About your father?"  
  
He nodded. "I was afraid I'd dream about it tonight. That one doesn't come back too often anymore, though. And it's a lot better than the one with my mother."  
  
"Is that your definition of closure?" she said, suddenly exasperated with him.  
  
He sighed. "Do you think I should try to convict that poor woman and her husband after all these years, Cal?"  
  
She squeezed him again. "No, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Horatio. I wasn't trying to tell you what to decide. I think it might mean something to you, though, just to know."  
  
"Nothing would change," he repeated. "I'll have to think through it some more. I can't do it now, though. I can't get distracted from Sterling and Grace's murder. Those poor people deserve my full focus."  
  
She stroked his hair softly. "You're incredible, Horatio. About later, though, one thing I'm not sure you've thought of. You think it might upset Pam to know it was you, if it even was you. But maybe she needs closure, too."  
  
He thought about that for a minute. "If she does, I'm not sure how to give it to her. She's too confused, Calleigh, and the guilt is too ingrained by now. I couldn't replace it. The replacement wouldn't stay with her. I could only make it worse." Calleigh pulled him more tightly against her, marveling again at Horatio's consideration. She was becoming more and more convinced, though, that reopening this case wasn't something about which he would be allowed to choose. They lay there holding each other, him worrying about Pam and her worrying about him, for another hour until the alarm clock rang.  
  
***  
  
Alexx ran through the results of her search again, trying to picture bodies to go with the impersonal death certificates. It was easier for her that way. She heard the door open behind her and turned to face Horatio. "Good morning."  
  
"Good morning," he responded. "You're here early."  
  
"So are you," she pointed out. She eyed him a little more closely. He had his hyperfocused look, the one he usually took on when a detective or the DA or someone else was trying to drag him off a case he wasn't convinced was closed. "Somebody giving you trouble on this one?"  
  
"Not at all," he said briskly. It wasn't a lie, she could tell, but his tone slammed the door on that whole line of conversation. Whatever was going on, he had no intention of sharing it with her. She hoped he had shared it with Calleigh, at least. "What have you got for me?" Horatio asked, the consummate, collected professional. He could almost match Sterling at times on playing an image, Alexx decided.  
  
She turned back to the paperwork. "Several deaths have occurred in the home in the last eight months, which isn't surprising. Most of them are the natural result of some chronic condition. There were four, though, that struck me as strange." She spread out the copies of those four death certificates. "Cause of death on these four is listed as myocardial infarction. Trouble is, none of them list a history of coronary artery disease or anything that would be a risk factor for it. It does happen out of the blue sometimes, but four out of this population size in eight months is over average."  
  
"Hmm. Did any other patients die of heart attack?"  
  
"Two." Alexx had those two in a separate stack. "They both had a history of CAD, though."  
  
Horatio considered it, head tilted slightly. "Was an autopsy done on any of them?"  
  
"No. It usually isn't unless the family requests it or unless circumstances are suspicious. Death in a nursing home isn't usually considered suspicious."  
  
"Alexx, if you wanted to cause a heart attack, preferably leaving as few traces as possible, how would you do it?"  
  
It was Alexx's turn to consider. "There are drugs that would do it. Elavil, for instance, which is found quite readily in a nursing home, since it's an antidepressant. Stelazine. Both of those can be injected and are fast acting. If a doctor gave a patient a massive overdose while the patient was asleep and unable to resist, cardiac arrest would occur pretty quickly. There can be other effects of them, though, that might make the scene look suspicious. You know, one way that would be very difficult to detect is simply air. Air emboli are deadly. That's why the air is always forced out of the needle tip before a drug is injected. If he injected a very large syringe of air into, say, the jugular vein, it would hit the heart almost instantly. And if the patient was disinterred later, if someone got suspicious after the fact, nothing would show on tox. On a thorough autopsy, there would be a froth in the heart, but that might be missed." She shuddered at her own thoughts. "Are you getting anywhere?"  
  
"One thing I picked up yesterday. Sterling tried to get more information on at least one patient's family within a week of admission. I'm going to try to find out how often that has happened with other patients. That same patient - a remarkable lady - said that she thought he would be motivated by money obtained in a way that made him feel superior."  
  
Alexx nodded. "That's Sterling, all right. Where do you think the families fit in?"  
  
"He's not killing people - if he's killing people - just because he can. I wonder if he goes to the families and offers to remove a burden to them in exchange for a slice of the inheritance. Another thing I'll check on today is whether these patients who died were private pay or Medicaid."  
  
Now Alexx really shuddered. "The families themselves?"  
  
"Some people do send relatives to a nursing home to get them out of the way. And that would certainly explain no family asking for an autopsy."  
  
"How on earth would he approach someone with that kind of offer? What if he ran into a caring family member?"  
  
"I think he screens them," Horatio said. "Just a nice conversation with the family, maybe a few innocent questions. He could judge their feelings easily enough. He just wouldn't proceed if they didn't seem receptive. Of course, this is pure speculation at this point." He picked up the copies of death certificates briskly. "Later on today, hopefully it will only be half speculation. Thank you, Alexx."  
  
***  
  
Horatio organized the team for the day, then drove across Miami toward Angela's apartment. He needed some information, information that would be difficult to get without hassle, and she was his best bet. He had left Speed still combing all medical association databases he could find. Horatio did have a list of the findings so far, which pretty well matched the results of his questioning from yesterday. Eric had found a fingerprint in the glove, but it did not match any in the database. He was going to process the yarn, then try to match any of the fingerprints Calleigh had laboriously separated out from the scissors to the one in the glove. Horatio was sure that was a dead end, but that was no reason not to eliminate the possibility. Eric would also try to match the fingerprints from the supply closet doorknob to the one in the glove. Calleigh was combing old address and school records, trying to determine if any of the other patients had ever been a student at the school where Grace had taught. She had, fortunately, taught at one school for her entire career. That would make it easier.  
  
Horatio pulled the Hummer up in front of Angela's apartment building, took the elevator up to her floor, and knocked almost reluctantly. Not only did he appreciate the difficult situation he was about to put her in, but he also hated to wake her up. Since she worked nights, she would have just gotten sound asleep. To his surprise, a response came almost immediately. "Who is it?" she called through the door.  
  
"Horatio Caine, from the Crime Lab. I spoke to you yesterday."  
  
The chain rattled free, and the door swung open. Angela was still dressed in her uniform, and tears had left tracks down her face. Her eyes were red- rimmed. Obviously, she hadn't been asleep but crying. "Angela, are you all right?" Horatio couldn't help being diverted from his mission. He always responded to people hurting.  
  
She nodded. "Melinda died early this morning. I like to come home and cry for them, especially the ones who have no family left. They deserve someone crying for them." She stepped back from the door and waved a hand at the couch. "Have a seat. What can I do for you?"  
  
Horatio entered and sat down. The apartment was small but spotlessly neat. "Did Melinda die easily?" he asked.  
  
She nodded. "She hit her call button about 2:00 AM and said she was about to. A lot of times, they know. She said she wanted me with her, though. So I just sat there with her. It can be so peaceful when they're ready, Mr. Caine. Beautiful almost. Just a smooth transition to something we can't see yet." She glanced at his badge. "I guess you don't get to see it that way too often."  
  
"No, I'm afraid I don't." He wrenched his thoughts back onto the case again. "Did anything unusual happen last night? Was it a quiet night otherwise?"  
  
"All except for Pam. She woke up screaming from a nightmare, and we had to give her a shot. That's not really unusual, though. She doesn't have them every night, but it isn't odd. It happens often enough that we've got a standing order for medication to knock her out."  
  
Horatio's thoughts instantly diverted again. "She has recurring nightmares?"  
  
"Just one, I think. She'll never say what it is, but she always wakes up screaming the same thing. 'I told him to stop.' None of us know what she means by it."  
  
Horatio did. He tried to collect himself again, but he felt like his mind was an agitated snow globe. The case. He had to focus on the case. Angela looked at him oddly, with a nurse's eye. "Mr. Caine, are you all right?"  
  
"Fine." The response was automatic, and the familiarity of it steadied him and enabled him to remember all the questions he had come here with. "Angela, I need some information from you. Not all of it relates to the murder, either. I think there's something more going on at that nursing home than just Grace's death."  
  
She was horrified. "You mean there are others? A serial killer?"  
  
"No. You haven't missed anything." She relaxed a fraction. "I think there are two separate killers here, and the other one is much more subtle. Grace's killer left clues, and we're closing in on him already. I do need some information, though, and some of it might be hard for you to give me."  
  
She understood instantly. Horatio could almost see her signed statement of medical confidentiality hovering in the air between them. One of the absolute rules in the medical world was not to divulge personal information. She could lose her job and her license for it. On the other hand, she valued people above rules, which was why he had come to her. "Angela, I promise you, nothing you tell me will go beyond this room. It will just help me get a direction of attack. I'll find other evidence when I know where to look. No one will ever know. And I do think people are being murdered at that home. I just don't have enough to go through official channels and get a warrant for the records."  
  
She considered it, and he was silent, leaving her free to think. "Ask your questions," she said finally, "but I can't guarantee I'll answer them."  
  
"Fair enough. Thank you. First, who has died in the nursing home in the past eight months whose death surprised you?" He knew that she would remember names and details without checking the records.  
  
She hesitated. Finally, she spoke, almost in a whisper, as if the nursing board might overhear her. She gave him five names, four of which were the ones Alexx had sorted out.  
  
"Was there anything in common about the days they died?"  
  
"All of them were at night. Actually, four of them were on nights when we expected another patient to die. A patient had taken a turn for the worst, and we even had to call in Dr. Sterling. One of those died, three didn't, at least not on those nights. All of those deaths were expected, though. It was only later that we realized that the other patients had had heart attacks during the night."  
  
"So Dr. Sterling was at the nursing home on the night four of those unexpected deaths occurred. I take it you were busy with the critical patient the whole time, and Karen was reading a book."  
  
Her eyes widened. "You think Dr. Sterling . . . " Her voice trailed off, unable to say it.  
  
"I'm trusting you, now," Horatio said. "That's slander. I could get in serious trouble for it. But yes, I do."  
  
She considered it, getting past the initial shock of the idea. "I've wondered, actually, why he's there. He doesn't really care about the patients. There are doctors who care more about the money and prestige, though. He's not the only one. We nurses meet a lot of them."  
  
"Could you see him taking that final step to murder?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "If he got something out of it."  
  
"Another question. Were those four patients private pay or Medicaid, and did they have families?"  
  
"They all had families." She hesitated. "I don't have access to the billing records. That's not part of my job."  
  
"You probably can get a feeling for who has money, though, from the patients and those who visit them."  
  
"Okay, I think they were all private pay, but I'm not sure."  
  
"Final question. Are there any new private pay patients on the floor within the last week or so?"  
  
"There are new patients. I don't know their financial status yet. Like I said, I don't see the records." She named two patients.  
  
"I'll let you get to sleep now." He stood up and shook hands with her.  
  
"I'm trusting you, Mr. Caine," she reminded him.  
  
"I'm trusting you, too. We now have equal blackmail material on each other, so it's a balanced situation." He smiled at her, and she returned it. "Thank you, Angel," he said in parting.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Caine. I hope you get him. I mean, them."  
  
"I will," he promised. He returned to the Hummer, called in to CSI to check on things and request an address search for the families of the two new patients, then drove to the nursing home.  
  
***  
  
June had advanced multiple sclerosis. She was completely helpless at this point, an alert mind imprisoned in a body which would not obey her anymore. Like Melinda, though, she was quite perceptive. "I thought I heard footsteps in the night when I woke up." She was in the room next door to Grace's. "That isn't odd, though. I never thought anything about it."  
  
"Any further sounds? Did anyone cry out?"  
  
"No. I didn't even hear Mary asking her question. They must have both been asleep."  
  
Horatio's cell phone rang just then. "Excuse me, June." He stepped over to the window. "Horatio."  
  
"Hey, Handsome."  
  
He smiled, and June smiled from the bed, watching him. "Hey, yourself. How are things?"  
  
"I've found one patient who I think might have been in the same school where Grace taught." She gave the name. "Speed thinks he was in the medical field, too. Have you talked to him yet?"  
  
"Not yet. I'll bump him up the list, though. What about the yarn?"  
  
"Plain yarn, nothing odd about it except that it was fraying. Old, worn yarn. Eric's working on the fingerprints now."  
  
"Thank you, Calleigh. Keep going. We don't know that this is the right one."  
  
"Don't worry, boss, I'm not slacking off. See you later."  
  
"See you." He ended the call and turned back to June, who was still smiling at him and not trying to hide it.  
  
"She's wonderful, isn't she?"  
  
"She's perfect," Horatio replied. He found it very hard to put up a front with these patients.  
  
"I'm glad for you," June said. "I had someone perfect once. Long time ago, but I had him."  
  
"I'm glad for you," he responded. "Thank you, June."  
  
He headed out the door and back to the nurse's station to check the room assignment on the bulletin board. He then went down to room 18. "Paul? Could I speak to you for a minute?"  
  
The man in the private room was sitting in a chair watching television. He turned at the voice, and Horatio tightened up at the eyes. Like many police officers, he thought the insanity defense was overused, but he had met some legitimately crazy criminals, too. He recognized the look. This man was unstable. He dropped his own eyes, so he wouldn't seem to be staring, and came to sharp attention as he saw the old house shoes covered with shaggy blue yarn which was fraying.  
  
"What is it?" The voice was perfectly calm, civil.  
  
"Did you notice anything on the night of the murder? We're asking all the residents."  
  
"No, I was asleep all night."  
  
Horatio came to a decision. "Thank you, Paul." He exited the room, then went to the end of the hall for privacy. He called Adele and asked her to get to the nursing home at full speed, and then he called Angela. Her groggy voice told him he had woken her up this time.  
  
"Sorry, Angel. It's Horatio Caine again. One further question." He pitched his voice low, but there was no one nearby.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"What is Paul's primary diagnosis?"  
  
"He has a brain tumor. Totally inoperable."  
  
"Brain tumors can have extreme effects on behavior, right? Even make people insane?"  
  
"Sometimes, but he's been there for a year, and he's never shown any signs of it."  
  
"I think he is now."  
  
"You think he killed Grace?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She was silent for a long moment. "He seemed just like normal."  
  
"You haven't had that much exposure to insane criminals. You couldn't be expected to recognize it. I'll know for sure shortly, though. I'm setting something up to test him. I really think he isn't safe here, though."  
  
She sighed. "If it is the tumor, he'll have to be sent to the State Mental Hospital. He couldn't be held responsible for it."  
  
"He won't be. I'm sure he wasn't in control of himself, but we've got to get him out of here. For the other patients' sake, as well as the staff. He's dangerous."  
  
"Let me know what happens."  
  
"I will. Thank you again." He ended the call and stood there waiting for Adele. There was a huge birdcage, about 8 feet tall, 10 feet wide, and 4 deep, at the end of the hall. Finches and parakeets fluttered busily, and he watched them as he planned his line of attack in the coming interview. He saw Adele finally and hurried down with smooth speed to join her. "Adele, I know who killed Grace now, but he's insane and unstable. I'm going to try to get him to confess. He'll never be found competent to stand trial, but we've got to get him out of here."  
  
"You want me as a witness."  
  
"Yes. Also, I don't think anyone should confront him alone. Like I said, he's unstable. Be ready."  
  
She sighed. "Got it, H. How are you going to get him to confess?"  
  
"Watch." He returned to 18 and knocked on the door again. "Paul? I'd like to ask you a few more questions, please."  
  
The man looked back at them, and Adele recognized the expression in the eyes, too. She shivered inwardly, though her body was rock steady.  
  
"We're trying to work out a motive for the murder. Did you know Grace was a school teacher?"  
  
"No, I hadn't heard that." The eyes flickered, though.  
  
"She taught history. Teaching is a remarkable profession, don't you think? So many lives touched." Paul's eyes were changing, focusing in a twisted way. Horatio continued. "I still remember teachers I had, even all these years later. What a priceless gift to give to children. Not just knowledge, but a lifelong example of compassionate influence. She was such a beautiful person. We'll all miss her. Such a beautiful, wonderful influence on everyone around her. All of the patients have been talking about what a saint she was. Such a beautiful, kind person. So caring, so selfless."  
  
Paul snapped like an overstretched rope. "That bitch ruined everything! It was her fault. It was all her fault. She told my parents I wasn't trying. Got me a beating that night. She deserved it." Pure hate. Horatio and Adele both saw it now.  
  
"No," Horatio corrected almost soothingly. "She was a wonderful person. Everyone will miss her. Such a positive example for the world. She may be dead physically, but her influence goes on. No one could ever destroy her life's work. She will never die."  
  
"She's dead! I stabbed her, and she's dead!" Paul rocketed out of his chair, launching himself toward Horatio with hands curled like claws, and Adele, slightly to one side, tripped him as Horatio stepped back. He hit the floor hard, and both of the officers were on him instantly, pinning him down as Adele snapped her cuffs in place. Horatio, pulling on a set of gloves, carefully removed the shaggy, molting house shoes. This man would never stand trial, but he had to tie the final knot of the evidence around him. He was sure Paul's fingerprints would match the ones in the glove and on the supply closet doorknob, too.  
  
They slowly stood him up, and Horatio held him by the arms while Adele called for backup. Paul's eyes were still glittering, unstable, and cold. "She deserved it," he repeated fiercely.  
  
Horatio sighed. "No, she didn't. But neither do you. I'm sorry, Paul."  
  
Adele snapped her phone shut. "They're coming. So I guess the nursing home case is over, right? Darla will be pleased."  
  
Horatio nodded vaguely, but he knew that the nursing home case was far from over, and Darla might have a heart attack herself before the end of this one.  
  
And then, there was the question of Pam. 


	5. Do No Harm 5

Chapter 5. See Chapter 1 for disclaimers. This chapter is the longest, but I wanted to finish it off. Hope you've enjoyed this one.  
  
***  
  
"Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity."  
  
Hippocrates, Precepts.  
  
***  
  
Horatio stood outside the nursing home watching the police cars pull away. Adele was taking care of the paperwork to obtain a 96 hour involuntary commitment to a psychiatric ward. That was the first step toward determining Paul's capability to stand trial, but Horatio had no doubt about it. The man truly had been taken over by the tumor, and he was not responsible for his actions. The consequences of them remained, though. Horatio felt utterly drained. Deliberately pushing Paul past the fragile edge of control had been an offense, like stripping someone naked in public, Horatio's disgust at himself for doing it only outweighed by the necessity. He looked at the trees again, trying to borrow some of their timeless strength. Finally, he settled in the privacy of the Hummer and turned to a more available source.  
  
"Hi, Handsome." Her voice soothed him and strengthened him, as always.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"We caught Grace's killer. It was Paul. He has a brain tumor, and it's made him insane, Calleigh. He wasn't in control of himself."  
  
"How did you know it was him?"  
  
He told her about the blue house shoes, then hesitated. She waited patiently, knowing there was more. "I deliberately knocked him over the edge again, Calleigh, and got him to confess with Adele as a witness."  
  
Her brief silence signaled her complete understanding. "You had no choice."  
  
"I know. He was dangerous, and any little thing could have set him off again. The staff and patients weren't safe with him there."  
  
"I wish I had been there for you."  
  
"I wish you had, too, Calleigh. But I was afraid he'd turn violent. We've got Rosalind to consider."  
  
"Did he turn violent?"  
  
"Yes. We're both fine, though. He tried to tackle me, but Adele was ready for him."  
  
She hesitated. "Horatio, if it hadn't been for Rosalind, would you have let me be there with you?"  
  
"Yes," he said instantly. "I would have been looking out for you as well as watching him, though."  
  
That was enough for her. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I will be. I've never done anything like that, Calleigh. Trapping a witness is different. This man couldn't help it, couldn't defend himself mentally, and I knew it."  
  
"You had to, for others' sake."  
  
"I know," he said again. The knowledge didn't make it easier, though, and she fully understood his ambivalent feelings. It was her understanding that made it a little easier. "I've still got to catch Sterling. Did you find those addresses for the families of the new patients?"  
  
"Only one of them so far. That one is a pretty upscale neighborhood. I think it's safe to say he isn't on Medicaid." She gave him the address, then added, "Sterling can defend himself, Horatio. You don't have to feel guilty about this one. Go knock him flat. It'll get the taste of Paul out of your mouth."  
  
He chuckled. "Therapy?"  
  
"Whatever you want to call it. And he does need to be stopped."  
  
"So he does. What would I do without you?" he wondered for the thousandth time. "I'll let you know when Sterling hits the mat."  
  
"Thanks. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too." Love almost seemed like an inadequate word. She propped his soul up when it started to lean, filled his life with sunlight, and understood him better than he understood himself. Two years ago, he would have resented such understanding, called it an invasion of privacy, been afraid to be so vulnerable. Now, he exulted in it. She completed him. And in a few months, she would give birth to his daughter. "Tell Rosalind hi for me," he said, sounding much more like himself, Calleigh thought. "I'll see you later. Bye."  
  
"Bye." She hung up, and Horatio sat there in the Hummer for a minute longer, still watching the trees. Now, after talking to Calleigh, he could feel their timeless strength again. He started the Hummer and headed for his next interview, his thoughts forward now, no longer back. Calleigh was right. He would take Sterling down without any hesitation at all. And it would happen soon.  
  
***  
  
Horatio pulled the Hummer up in front of a home that instantly confirmed Calleigh's guess about financial status. The property tax alone for this must be astronomical. He headed up a sidewalk lined with perfectly spaced shrubs, and he was about to ring the doorbell when he heard a faint noise from around the side of the house. He walked around that way and came upon a woman in her 50s, hair graying, kneeling and weeding a flower bed almost viciously, yanking each weed out and hurling them behind her to be collected later in the waiting wheelbarrow. This was therapy if Horatio had ever seen it. He wondered what the true object of her stress was. He cleared his throat, and she looked up, surprised but not taken aback. The confident, steady, red-rimmed eyes met his. Like Angela, she had been crying recently. Her expression dared him to take notice of that fact, and he left it alone, agreeing with her unspoken comment that it was her own business. She stood up and came over to greet him, strength even in her walk. This woman had never been beautiful, but for determination mixed with blazing, direct honesty, he'd rarely met her match. "Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Police," he said. "Are you Paulette Sanford?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "Is anything wrong?"  
  
Horatio was already re-evaluating his line of questioning. This woman would not accept half details. He would have to trust her with more of the truth than he had intended up front in order to get any response to his questions. "Your father was recently admitted to a nursing home, wasn't he?"  
  
Concern flooded over her features instantly. "Is anything wrong with him? I just saw him this morning."  
  
"No, nothing is wrong with him." Horatio hesitated again, studying those eyes. Sometimes, he simply had to take a gamble on this job. Her concern had been immediate, not staged. If she was honest, she could help him. "A patient was murdered there two nights ago."  
  
"I heard about that. Have you caught the killer?"  
  
"Yes, actually. He was just taken into custody. But my investigation has turned up some other circumstances that bear looking at."  
  
"What other circumstances?"  
  
He had known she wouldn't accept that statement. He went straight after what he wanted now, his eyes meeting hers directly. "Mrs. Sanford, have you been visited by Dr. Sterling since your father's admission to the nursing home?"  
  
"No," she said, puzzled now. "Why should I be? Doctors don't usually come see the family."  
  
A blaze of excitement swept through Horatio. He was ahead of Sterling. For the first time in this case, he had the lead. "Could we go inside and talk for a few minutes, Mrs. Sanford?"  
  
She looked back down at her flower bed. "Let me get these last 2 feet."  
  
"Certainly." Horatio himself started gathering the pulled weeds and loading them into the wheelbarrow as she resumed her work a little less forcefully than before.  
  
"I didn't want to put him in, you know," she said as she pulled out another weed. She seemed to feel obligated to explain her father's placement, like Horatio might think it a failure of duty on her part.  
  
"Sometimes, we have no choice about things," Horatio responded, thinking of Paul. She paused in her weeding, impressed by the empathy in his voice, then went on.  
  
"He has Alzheimer's. My husband died years ago, and I moved in with my father after Mom died. We'd always been close, but when his mind started to go, it just got to be too much. He wouldn't admit anything was wrong. He wouldn't accept help from any aides I tried to hire. I had to care for him round the clock, Mr. Caine, and he would still fight me about it. Getting him declared incompetent and putting him in that home was the hardest thing I've ever done."  
  
"I'm sorry," Horatio said sincerely. He remembered her statement that she had just seen her father that morning, and he realized now what she had been crying about. To be blamed unjustly by the people you are trying to help would bring anyone to tears.  
  
"He thinks I've abandoned him. I go to see him every day, but he still thinks I've abandoned him." She finished the last weed and got up, donating it to the pile he had built in the wheelbarrow. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," he said. "I hope things get easier for you, Mrs. Sanford."  
  
"They won't," she said, facing reality squarely. "Eventually, though, he'll progress past the fighting stage, and then he'll just sit there. It's a horrible disease." Tears welled up in her eyes again. "He gave me so much when I was a child. But I couldn't give him enough, now. It was breaking my own health, Mr. Caine."  
  
"I'm sorry," Horatio said again. The feeling behind it touched her, and she gave him a half smile.  
  
"Let's go inside." She led the way, supplied coffee for both of them, and sat down at the kitchen table across from him. "Now then, what is this about?"  
  
Horatio weighed her personality and integrity one final time, then launched into a direct statement of his suspicions, deleting any mention of Angela's involvement as an information source. She sat there absorbing it, but her eyes slowly widened. "What a wicked thing to do. If he's doing it, that is. Those poor people."  
  
"Yes. It is still unproven. The thing is, Mrs. Sanford, I think that you will be getting a visit from Dr. Sterling imminently. When he calls to set up a time, would you please call me?" He slid his card across the table to her.  
  
"I'm not sure if you're imagining this or not, but if he calls, yes, I'll let you know."  
  
The phone rang just then, and she crossed the room to answer it. Her voice went up sharply in surprise. "Dr. Sterling? Yes, I am his daughter." Her shocked eyes met Horatio's. She still hadn't been sure on his suspicions alone, and he could hardly blame her. "You would? Um, yes, that would be fine. Okay." She hung up the phone and returned to the table, dropping into the chair heavily. "That was Dr. Sterling himself. He wants to see me."  
  
"When?"  
  
"30 minutes."  
  
Horatio came straight up out of his chair. This was too fast, the trap snapping closed too quickly. He hadn't planned it like this, but there was no other choice than to seize the moment. He had already trusted this woman with his suspicions. "Mrs. Sanford, I would very much like to hear that conversation. In fact, I would like to tape it. Do you have a tape recorder?"  
  
"Yes," she said, getting up herself. "But you said that my father was safe enough, that Sterling just screened families and wouldn't make his proposal to me."  
  
Horatio's eyes met hers directly. "Have you ever done any acting, Mrs. Sanford?"  
  
She understood instantly. "You want me to sell my father's life?" Even in pretense, the idea horrified her.  
  
"For the sake of the other patients. Your father is safe, but others aren't. I'm sorry, I was going to set up a trap with staged family if I had the time, but I don't. It has to be now."  
  
She hesitated for a minute. "I'm not sure how convincing I'd be."  
  
"You underestimate yourself. Just think of what this man has done, and think that you can contribute to stopping him."  
  
She considered it, then nodded slowly. "You're right. If he is killing people, I can't ignore it. I'll do my best."  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Sanford."  
  
She walked into the spacious living room and opened the roll top desk, pulling out a small tape recorder and checking the batteries. "I use this to tape conferences sometimes. It picks up voices very well."  
  
"That will be perfect." Horatio took it and looked around for a hiding place.  
  
"You can get just down the hall. I'll make sure he sits on this couch here. He won't be able to see down the hall, but it will be very close for the recording. I'll sit in this chair." She would be able to see him, but Horatio understood that she needed that support to get her through this.  
  
"That will be perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Sanford."  
  
She settled in her chair, and he leaned comfortably against the wall just out of sight of the couch. She looked over and smiled a bit uncertainly at him. "So, tell me about your family. You know all about mine, now." He told her about Calleigh and Rosalind, charging her batteries for the coming interview by distracting them both, and she relaxed as she listened. The 30 minutes passed before either of them realized it, and the doorbell startled them when it rang. She got up, and Horatio flattened himself against the wall and clicked on the recorder. The voices reached him clearly.  
  
"Mrs. Sanford, I'm Dr. Sterling. I just like to talk to all the families of our new patients, to assure you what fine care they get." The man's voice was positively oily. Horatio wanted to hit him, and he hoped that Mrs. Sanford was successfully masking her own similar wishes.  
  
"How considerate of you. Please, sit down. This couch is comfortable." She crossed over to the chair, and Horatio could see her again. Her eyes and voice were absolutely steady, her thoughts perfectly hidden. "So nothing is wrong with my father?" She managed to slide just a trace of hope into her tone.  
  
"No, no, everything is fine." There was a pause as Sterling obviously looked around, calculating dollars. "This is a very nice house you have here."  
  
"Thank you. It belongs to my father, actually, but it will be mine. Eventually." She let her own eyes appraise her future inheritance. There was a thoughtful pause before Sterling went on.  
  
"Allow me to express my sympathies about your father. That disease is such a trial. Advances in research are being made all the time, of course, but there's still not much we can do."  
  
"Yes, it is hard," she agreed. "The worst thing is, I've read they can drag on for years and years like that, even after they can't interact at all anymore."  
  
"I'm afraid that's true," Sterling replied, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "His lifespan could be many more years, even a decade or longer."  
  
"Yes. He thinks I've abandoned him, too. Just shoved him off there to get him out of the way." She didn't deny it, though. "But it was so difficult having him here. It totally interfered with my life." She was doing this better than Horatio had dared hope for. He could almost feel Sterling's interest rising as he judged her attitude.  
  
"I understand. You have your own plans and dreams, after all. Caring for him really was a hardship."  
  
"Exactly. I do have a life of my own. And dreams, like you said. You know, I've always dreamed of going on safari in Africa."  
  
"Well, with your father in the home, maybe you can now."  
  
She hesitated, her eyes shifting briefly to Horatio. He gave her a thumbs up, and she shifted back to Sterling. "I really can't afford it, to be honest. Everything will be mine, but it isn't just yet. I'm his guardian, but that doesn't give me full liberty in the court's eyes. Maybe someday I can do it, after my father . . ."  
  
Sterling slid effortlessly into the conversation gap. "Yes, I hope you can someday. If there is enough left by then. As I said, he could live years longer."  
  
She sighed, looking at the floor. "I've thought of that. There might not be anything left. I was stunned at the cost of the nursing home."  
  
"And it rises almost every year."  
  
She looked shocked. "Even higher? There won't be anything left after years of that."  
  
"Precisely." The couch creaked as Sterling shifted, convinced now that he had a bite on the line and preparing to reel her in. "You know, your father, if he were in his right mind, wouldn't want everything he worked for to just trickle away to a nursing home."  
  
She gave a sad smile. "No, he wouldn't."  
  
"And life like that is such a burden. Just a body left, with the mind already gone. He could live for years like that. He wouldn't want to be a burden on you."  
  
"No, he probably wouldn't." She glanced back at Horatio for strength. "I'll admit, I've actually wished that he might have a heart attack or something. It really would be for the best. Do you think it's wrong for me to wish that?"  
  
"Not at all," Sterling replied smoothly. "He's had his life, after all. You should have the opportunity to appreciate what's left of yours. And like you said, the money may well be all gone before he dies of Alzheimer's."  
  
"Yes. I worry about that lots of times. But what choice is there?"  
  
Sterling launched into his presentation, smooth as any salesman. "There might actually be a choice."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"People do die of heart attacks, like you said. And in a nursing home, there wouldn't be questions asked. No one would think it was suspicious."  
  
She let out a staged gasp, managing to look shocked but interested. "You mean, you can cause a heart attack?"  
  
"Yes. There are ways. And often, it's the best answer. His life is a burden to him at this point, as well as you."  
  
"How would you do it?" Horatio nodded encouragingly. He had to get all the details on tape here.  
  
"There are several drugs, but the best method is simply a shot of air into a major vessel. It's very fast-acting. Quite efficient."  
  
She considered. "You're saying you can kill people without anyone getting suspicious?"  
  
"Definitely. No one would ever wonder about it. Perfectly natural appearing."  
  
"How do I know it would work?"  
  
"Well, as they say, practice makes perfect."  
  
Her eyes, meeting Horatio's briefly, looked sick, but she managed to make her face look impressed. "You've gotten away with it before?"  
  
"Several times. And no one has ever suspected anything. It works beautifully. Your father would be out of his misery, and you would be free to enjoy your inheritance while it still existed. With, of course, a small deduction for services rendered."  
  
"How much of a deduction?"  
  
"5% of the estate. A small fee, really, for preserving the rest of it for you."  
  
"How soon could this, um, service take place?"  
  
"That does require a bit of timing. I wait until another patient is critical, and I'm called in at night. There's always an opportunity to slip into an extra room unobserved and give a quick shot. It only takes a few seconds, and I assure you, they barely have time to wake up. I can't schedule an exact date, but it would be as soon as possible."  
  
Horatio had had enough. "You'll be waiting quite a while, then. I'm afraid you will be otherwise occupied for the rest of your life. And that might not be too long."  
  
Sterling whirled around, caught off balance for once. Horatio exited the hall, gun in hand, and Mrs. Sanford stood and backed carefully out of the way. "Remember me, Sterling? Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Police. You're under arrest for murder. Mrs. Sanford, would you call 911, please?"  
  
"I'd love to," she said. Giving Sterling a venomous look, she retrieved the phone from the desk.  
  
"You have nothing," Sterling persisted. "A defense attorney can break her testimony."  
  
"I doubt it. And I assure you, no attorney will break mine," Horatio said, letting all the contempt he felt color his voice. "I heard everything, and I also made a complete recording. Finally, based on this tape, we can get exhumation orders for four specific patients, and the autopsy reports will be quite interesting."  
  
"Run all the tox tests you like," Sterling said, but his confidence had cracked now.  
  
"I'm not talking about tox tests. Dr. Alexx Woods, our ME, will be doing autopsies specifically looking for signs in the heart, and even if the froth isn't there any longer, a needle mark in the jugular vein would be hard to explain. You remember Dr. Woods, I believe? Her testimony is going to help take you down."  
  
Sterling's eyes fell. "I want my lawyer."  
  
"You'll need him," Horatio replied. "Mrs. Sanford, why don't you call the local TV stations and newspapers, too? I'm sure they would find the arrest of a prominent doctor for multiple murder newsworthy."  
  
"You've got it," she said, picking the phone back up.  
  
The cameras and reporters arrived only shortly after the police did. Their pictures of Sterling being led out of the house in handcuffs hit every local news broadcast that night and the front page of the papers the next day.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh's cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID and smiled just anticipating hearing his voice. "Hi, Handsome."  
  
"Hi, Beautiful. Sterling is down for the count."  
  
"Nice work," she said.  
  
"I had help."  
  
She smiled again at that statement, so like Horatio. "Nice work to all of you then. What do you have on him?"  
  
"He confessed to everything on tape and in front of two witnesses."  
  
Now Calleigh was really impressed. "How did you get him to do that?"  
  
"No salesman can resist the opportunity to make a sale." She could hear the disgust in his voice. "I was going to set up an interview with staged family, as soon as I found some honest family who would cooperate, but Sterling actually called to set up the interview while I was there. There wasn't time to plan anything. Mrs. Sanford deserves an Academy Award for her performance. She was incredible."  
  
She had help, Calleigh thought. She worked with Horatio every day and knew that he never just asked people to do things for him, then sat back and watched. It was his own passion for the cause and his unfailing support that made others so willing to help him. "So, are you still at her house?"  
  
The disgust fell out of his voice, to be replaced by uncertainty. "No, actually, I'm at headquarters now. We just finished statements for booking Sterling." Calleigh wondered why he was calling her from only a few hundred yards away. She didn't have to wonder long. "I wanted to ask you to talk to Alexx. Tell her it's over. She should know as soon as possible."  
  
She understood now. Horatio himself could not tell Alexx it was over, because for him, it wasn't over. Alexx would see through the statement in nothing flat and would be anything but reassured. "What are you going to do?"  
  
He hesitated. "I'm going to take a drive. Is there anything urgent you need me for at CSI?"  
  
"No, it's been a quiet afternoon. No new cases. Horatio, do you want me with you?"  
  
"Not right now, Cal. I just need some time alone to think." He sounded apologetic, afraid that she would be hurt.  
  
"It's okay, Horatio. I understand. Call me if you need me, all right?"  
  
He gave a sigh of relief. She did understand. "Thank you, Calleigh. I will. Make sure Alexx is all right."  
  
"I will. I love you, Horatio."  
  
"I love you, too. Bye."  
  
Calleigh sat there in Ballistics studying her cell phone for a minute, then got to her feet to keep her promise. She headed for the autopsy room and found Alexx cleaning things. All of CSI was kept spotless, for fear of contaminating evidence, but Alexx always took it to extremes in her area. For her, it was psychological, not just practical. "Hi, Alexx. Horatio just called me."  
  
Alexx turned quickly, trying to judge her expression. "And?" For once, the ME was inarticulate.  
  
"He got Sterling. He's over at headquarters finishing the paperwork now. He has a taped confession and two witnesses, he said. No way around that. It's over."  
  
Alexx put down her cleaning supplies and came across to Calleigh, hugging her gratefully. "I don't know how to thank him. Is he okay?"  
  
"Yes," said Calleigh, hoping he was. "About thanking him, I wouldn't make a big production out of it, but just saying it would mean a lot to him."  
  
"Yes. Knowing it made a difference."  
  
"He's sure of that. You made a difference, too. Think of all the future victims who will be saved, Alexx."  
  
Alexx nodded. "You know, I told Horatio that I was doing this for them. And I was. Honestly, it wasn't revenge. But I've realized, it does make a difference to me, too. I thought I had closure on this personally years ago, but it helps to just tie up the loose ends and know that it's over. It really is over now, Calleigh. And that does matter to me, as well as to them, more than I thought it would. Can you understand that?"  
  
Calleigh hugged her friend warmly. "Believe me, Alexx, I know exactly what you mean."  
  
***  
  
He entered Ballistics right as she was really starting to get worried about him. Four hours had passed since his call. He came across to the table where she was finishing paperwork and kissed her as she turned to greet him. "Hi, Cal. Hi, Rosalind."  
  
"Hi." She studied him. He looked tired emotionally as well as physically, but his eyes were clear. She wondered where he had been, maybe out to the cemetery, but she didn't ask. If he wanted to share it with her, he would.  
  
He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's well past quitting time. You promised me you wouldn't work late any more."  
  
"Sorry, boss. I lost track of it." Actually, she'd been glued to the clock, but not for her own sake.  
  
"Well, you're leaving now. That's an order." There was a glimmer of the old playfulness in his eyes.  
  
"You'd better go with me, just to make sure I really leave."  
  
"I was planning on it." He kissed her again, pulling her out of her chair and up to her feet. She wound both arms around him, squeezing him tightly, almost resenting Rosalind for coming between them at the moment. Horatio released her finally. "We've got one stop to make on the way home, though."  
  
"The nursing home?"  
  
"Mmm hmm." He was still mostly silent as they left CSI and drove across town, though he did ask her about Alexx. They arrived at the nursing home and parked in the visitors' lot.  
  
"Do you want me to wait here?" Calleigh asked, careful to let no preference color her tone. It had to be his choice.  
  
"No. This time, you can be there for me. Pam isn't dangerous." He gave her his quirky smile, and she reached across to squeeze his arm, thanking him silently for the privilege of sharing this with him. As they exited the Hummer, he picked up a small sack from the back seat. "What's that, Horatio?"  
  
"A gift." His voice was half distracted. His mind was already ahead of him, in Pam's room, but his supportive, grateful grip on Calleigh's elbow told her that he was fully aware of her presence. They entered the building and walked down to the now familiar wing. Horatio paused briefly outside the open door, glanced once at Calleigh for strength, and then knocked lightly. "Pam? Remember me? I have a few more questions, I'm afraid."  
  
The woman had been staring out the window again, and Calleigh caught a glimpse of the hazy, confused eyes as she turned. The confusion disappeared instantly as she again fixated on Horatio's badge and her mind dove back into the past, latching onto the clearest memory she had. "I told him to stop. Like I said, I told him to stop."  
  
Horatio crossed to the side of the bed and put a hand gently on her arm. Calleigh hung back a fraction, although she didn't think she would distract Pam. Still, this conversation belonged to the two of them. She lightly touched Horatio's back, though, letting him feel her presence. "I know you did, Pam," Horatio said soothingly. "I've been conducting an investigation of this accident, and I know exactly what you told him. He just wouldn't listen, would he?"  
  
Pam shook her head, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "He never listened to me. I told him to stop. I told him he was driving too fast, before that. But he wouldn't listen."  
  
"It was raining, wasn't it?" Horatio's voice never changed. Even, soothing, understanding, nothing to show that the question mattered.  
  
Pam nodded vigorously. "I told him. He was driving too fast in the rain. I told him to stop."  
  
"You even told him the next day that he should turn himself in, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes. I tried to tell him. I told him I'd go alone and tell them, and he hit me. Then he said I couldn't go all beat up, or everyone would know about us. He said he'd even tell them it was my fault. I wanted to go."  
  
"I know you did," Horatio assured her.  
  
"That poor boy," she said. One tear slid over and fell unheeded. "The man was killed, but the boy lived. Maybe they both would have lived if he had stopped. I told him to stop."  
  
"No," Horatio said firmly. "Listen to me, Pam. Like I said, I've been conducting an investigation of this accident. I've found out that it was exactly like you say. It was his fault. You tried to make him stop, and he wouldn't listen. But Pam, it wouldn't have made any difference."  
  
She hesitated, some of the confusion returning. "Not even if he had stopped?"  
  
"No. The man died almost instantly, Pam. And it took hours to get them out of that car." Horatio faltered momentarily, and Calleigh rubbed his back silently. "If he had stopped, Pam, nothing would have changed. The man would have died before anyone could come. If an ambulance had been waiting right there, he still would have died before they got him out. It didn't matter, Pam." It occurred to Calleigh that if the car had stopped, Horatio would have been spared that ghastly vigil all night, but she didn't say anything. Horatio honestly hadn't considered that, and mentioning it would hardly help either him or Pam. Looking at this woman, Calleigh couldn't blame her. Horatio's voice went on smoothly. "It was your husband's fault, Pam, not yours. Nothing you did contributed to his death."  
  
She eyed him uncertainly. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive. Like I said, I've investigated it thoroughly since talking to you the first time. It's been through an official police investigation, Pam, and we know you did nothing wrong. In fact, I brought you something." He offered her the small sack, and she slid a 5 x 7 picture frame out of it. Calleigh peered around his shoulder, curious herself. The frame held a simple piece of Miami-Dade PD official stationary, its only content the familiar stamp, two words heavy with finality. Case Closed. Pam studied it, mouthing out the words as she read them. "That's the official stamp we used in the department when a case is over, Pam. I thought you might want it. And when you . . . when you get to worrying about that accident again, you can just look at it. It's been investigated, and it's over. No one blames you." He hoped that it would connect. It was the best idea he could come up with for a tangible resolution. She had to have a tangible resolution, a constant reminder she could look at, to have any hope at being stronger than her confusion. She read the words again several times, and he saw the tears finally spill over. For this moment, at least, she understood. He leaned over and hugged her. "I'll leave now, Pam. And you don't have to worry about the police coming for you anymore. It's over."  
  
"Thank you," she said softly. He glanced back as he and Calleigh exited the room. Pam was still holding the picture frame tightly in both hands, reading it over and over. Horatio went down to the nurse's station, where the shift had just changed. Karen was already deep in her book and didn't even look up, but Angela saw him and looked startled.  
  
"Mr. Caine. Nothing else has happened, has it? You said when you called me that it was all over."  
  
"It is. Dr. Sterling is under arrest. I just had one final request, Angel."  
  
"What's that?" Her expression was puzzled but trusting.  
  
"Would you let me know tomorrow if Pam has any nightmares tonight?"  
  
"Yes," she said. She didn't ask why. She had been through enough with Horatio today to realize that he must have a reason.  
  
"Thank you. Good night."  
  
"Good night, Mr. Caine, and God bless you."  
  
"He already has," Horatio said softly, squeezing Calleigh's arm. They headed for the exit together. "You wonder why I didn't tell her it was me, don't you?"  
  
"No," she said. "I agree now that I've seen her. It would just make her feel more guilty, and she's punished herself too much already. I think playing it as a police officer was the right way to go. And the gift was perfect. The case is closed now, Horatio."  
  
"Yes," he agreed. His thoughts quickly moved from himself back to Pam, though. "I hope she can retain it that way. It was the only thing I could think of that might stick."  
  
Calleigh squeezed his arm more tightly. "You're amazing, Horatio. Always thinking about other people."  
  
"My father died thinking about her. He wasn't mad at them, just concerned." His softened eyes looked into the past, then snapped back wistfully to the present. "I wish you had known them, Calleigh." They exited the building and started down the sidewalk to the parking lot.  
  
"I feel like I do, some anyway." He stopped and looked at her, surprised. "I know their son. They had to be remarkable people. And who knows, they're probably up there watching us right now."  
  
He caught her to him with a strength that made Rosalind shift in surprise. "They probably are," he murmured against her hair. His sensitive lips traveled down her face and found her own, and they melted into each other, standing there for countless moments until the click of footsteps on the sidewalk brought them reluctantly to their senses. They straightened up and broke apart, turning together to face the intruder. It was an old woman, face faded and wrinkled like a worn-out rag doll but eyes still bright and alert. She was walking slowly around the building on the sidewalks, taking her evening constitutional. The eyes twinkled merrily as she smiled at them.  
  
"Oh, don't let me disturb you. You young people should have your fun while you can. I'll just go right on by." She did so, moving with slow but determined steps. Horatio and Calleigh stood there looking after her until she rounded the corner, then both burst out laughing.  
  
"I feel like a teenager again, getting caught by my parents," Calleigh said.  
  
Horatio shook his head in disbelief. "You young people," he quoted. "Wonder how long it's been since anyone grouped me in with young people."  
  
Calleigh gave him a playful nudge. "You're still young, Horatio. You're expecting your first child, so you're right there along with a lot of 20 year olds."  
  
He gave a hum of anticipation just thinking about it. "Just a few more months, Calleigh."  
  
"I was thinking, if she's just a few days overdue, she could be born on my birthday. February 28th. It might be neat to share the same one."  
  
Horatio shook his head. "I'll take her however I can get her, but I hope not." There was sincerity behind that, and Calleigh shot him an odd look.  
  
"Why?"  
  
His dazzling eyes met hers, shining in the growing dusk. "You both deserve your own special day. I want to be able to focus on each of you. Both on one day would be too much perfection."  
  
Looking at him, Calleigh felt suddenly overwhelmed by too much perfection, yet even as she thought it, she reached for him again, pulling him tightly to her, claiming all of him again as her own. They were still there, wrapped in each other's arms, when the old woman meandered by slowly again. They didn't even notice her this time, and she diverted around them and kept going, but her own smile lit the night as she walked on, lost in memories.  
  
*** ***  
  
Next on CSI:Miami: Fearful Symmetry - A one-part, frivolous subseries story to give you an angst break before the story following that one. You're going to need it. 


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